


To Old Memories, New Truths, and Destiny

by Ahsia



Series: The Once and Maybe King [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur goes to Hogwarts, Arthur has magic, Arthur-centric, Chosen One, F/M, Fate & Destiny, M/M, Missing Merlin, Once and Future King, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:56:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3504158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahsia/pseuds/Ahsia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eleven year old Arthur Evans knew something wasn't right. For the past few months he's been plagued by visions of ancient castles, of knights and bloody battles, but most importantly by a man who couldn't possible be real. A sorcerer by the name of Merlin; his manservant, an idiot, his closest companion. But surely that's only a fairytale, right? There's no way Camelot or magic is real. But then Arthur receives a letter to a certain school named Hogwarts, and he's a bit overwhelmed to say the least. Now he's on a quest to figure out what's really going on, making friends and enemies at every turn as he battles old memories and new troubles to fulfill destiny and learn the truth. But this time, there doesn't seem to be a Merlin by his side to keep him out of trouble.</p><p>Re-uploaded, after a bit of a major freak out on my part. Er- sorry about that...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Merlin, My Merlin?

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm reloading this story after having a panic attack. Which was a big, terrifying deal that was quite serious. I deleted my account and avoided the internet for almost a week. But I'm back- With a new warning for my stories and everything.
> 
> *Due to a significant medical condition that effects my brain, which pertains mostly to my ability to comprehend certain memories and how I interpret them, I may accidentally recite works I have read at anytime in the past, even years prior that I have not seen since. I do not recite other works on purpose and if in the future it occurs, I sincerely apologized to any author I do this to. I will never copy anyone's hard work on purpose, and, if such things are noticed please tell me immediately. I will try my best to fix what I can and contact the needed parties as soon as possible.*
> 
> As you can see, I might have had a big reason to delete the story the first time. But after talking with a bunch of people who were incredibly far too kind, I've decided not to give it up yet. So uh, yea, here I go again...
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter or Merlin. I don't have a Beta, so all the mistakes are mine. I'll try to fix them as soon as I find them, sorry.

_Looming, old and frigid, the mist was descending along his closed eyes and he couldn't move. Swirling around tarnished metal, like bony needles dragging him further down in the water, he tried to move, tried to do something as a large weight sat above the once empty lake, a man screaming by the edge as he was dragged down and down. Another cold ripple clung, his eyes sealed shut and nothing moved, his hands didn't twitch, his mouth didn't open, his chest still, his face unmoving as he didn't breathe, and the man stayed hunched by the waters edge. Seared with red, bloody, crippled in grief as he sunk until there was nothing to see, nothing to feel but the cold. The balance tipped the wrong way, frozen in place and he couldn't stop it. He couldn't come back, not now._

Arthur burst back into consciousness, surging forward in bed as dread and the suffocating feeling of passing nightmares clung to his bones, holding his chest so tightly he might have bruised his skin. He took frantic breaths, coughing and jerking as he kicked off his blankets, his breathing fast and heavy as his eyes darted around the room. They reflected the last of the visions, the last glimpses of the horrifying moments fading away as he sat in bed.

He finally ran a shaky hand through his hair as he started to settle, his short blond locks a mess as he caught the time on the clock next to him, seeing that it was only ten minutes before his alarm went off. He sighed, swinging over the side of the bed and tripping over a shirt on the floor as he stumbled to the bathroom.

Arthur flinched as he clicked the lights on, shielding his eyes with a groan as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, glowering at his half awake state. He ran a hand over his face, dragging his fingers over the dark bags under his eyes. To anyone but himself, it looked like he hadn't slept in days.

If anybody found out about his nightmares…

He sighed and leaned over the sink, mulling over his most recent reoccurring scenes as he washed his face. The visions were becoming clearer, focused and back to being more like memories than a strange sort of movie he was forced to watch- the enchanted and terrifying sensations just as real as when he was awake.

Arthur's mouth twisted into a scowl as he ran a hand over his chest.

Destiny.

It's a strange notion and, really come on, it was usually completely laughable. Of course Arthur didn't believe in it, let alone _dreamt_ about something so incredibly stupid. He wasn't a girl.

So he didn't tell anyone about it; not his friends with the order of the Knights and the round table, or his teachers with the witch hunts and execution, and especially not his Father. On anything at all. Uther Evans _didn't do_ fairytales. So there was no way he was going to go around sprouting about wars, scheming courts, magical assassins and lands soaked with blood- and especially not about his own place in it all.

He grumbled at his own reflection before jumping into the shower, his back going stiff as the water hit him. He jumped, suddenly remembering the waters of the lake and he shivered violently.

There was no such thing as destiny, and there was no such thing as magic.

What there _was_ though, was football practice before school that he needed to get ready for.

* * *

Usually the first question that most Muggle parents asked when a teacher finally got to their house- after the newly discovered witch or wizard stopped sputtering about like buffoons- was whether or not they were certain.

That, maybe, there was a mistake and their little Johnny or Jane had somehow been misplaced onto the 'magical list' of students. After all, how did they know for _certain_ that their sweet little child was a magical user? It wasn't like they had taken a test. And sometimes it didn't help that a Muggleborn could have so little to them that they resembled closer to a squib than anything.

There were some cases where the denial was so great that the muggle parents blamed the sudden disappearing furniture or the randomly floating objects, even spontaneous changes in hair color on something as ridiculously preposterous as electrical storms.  Even contaminated drinking water. In fact, seeing how no one outside the wizardry community were even aware of their existence- of an entire ancient culture dictated by magical rules and separate religious, they could barely comprehend it.

Until a representative showed up at their doorstep to tell them their child was going to be whisked away into a thousand year old secret society, the denial came on rather strong almost every time.

Severus Snape kept his face professional blank, his eyes boring into the room with absolute disinterest as the Headmaster read out the list of Muggleborns for the upcoming year. He handed the four folders out to the house heads and the teachers, and the potion master realized long ago this wasn't the easiest of tasks. For anyone. They couldn't just send out letters and be done with it, unfortunately. That was often regarded as a farce and they were thrown out without another glance. That left children floundering about in limbo until the school year started, and then they would be- while completely unprepared- dragged away from their homes by irrate school board members once they didn't show up for their first day of school

So, yes, their questions were usually perfectly legitimate one. A pity he didn't care enough to indulge such empty headed parents with their appropriate answers.

Usually, which meant every time, Snape simply averted their gobsmacked attentions with a simple spell to leave them silent and make it clear that, _no,_ they really didn't have a choice in this. Their child was going to school, to learn magic, they had magic and they'd better shut their gobs and except that.

It was a lot better than the saying, "It's a beautiful thing." that Minerva McGonagall had decided to pick up in the last few years.

Snape repressed a sigh as he brought a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose, taking a long sip of his tea from his cup from the table beside him, already feeling a headache start to form.

Leaning back in his chair, he opened his own folder and rubbed exhaustion from his eyes as he saw the half dozen names written down. He had never liked this part, and for Merlin's sakes he had no idea how Albus still managed to go around Britain and Scoltand and repeat this every year in his obscene age. He remembered every horror story- how one parent a few years back had demanded to know the exact biological specifics of Magic in the human body, nearly driving him mad. When they had started poking and prodding him like a specimen he'd finally been forced to actually go to the St. Muguos and _ask._ The Muggles hadn't been pleased when he sent his findimgs by owl and never came back.

On time a single father even threw up on his shoes when all of his children, all seven received their letters when they reached eleven.

He went to snap the folder closed as the meeting came to an end when a name in the middle caught his attention. And when he saw the address next to it he raised a brow, quickly making his way out as the other teachers discussed among themselves.

Arthur Evans.

Strange, that a boy with _her_ last name would be living so close to Potter.

* * *

"Hey Evans!" The Coach's voice rang out through the locker room, "The office wants you. Your dads here to pick you up."

Arthur looked up from where he was sitting on the bench, in the middle of pulling off his grass stained jersey, and the confusion was clearly written on his face. Why would his father need to pick him up from school? He didn't know of any doctor appointments or family meetings. He glanced over at his best mates, who just shrugged as they grabbed their bags, the first bell ringing as they starting for the door. His friendship with his group had been rather strained lately, none of them really talking to him once his nightmares started a few months ago, and it wasn't a well kept secret from his classmates on just how exhausted he was now a days. The other boys most likely just thought he was getting tired of hanging out with them.

"Got it coach," Arthur said with a smile. "I'll head right there."

"See that you do."

Arthur nodded, grunting as he got to his feet quickly, dodging nimbly out of the way and through the packed hallways of the middle school, towards the front reception room. He'd already been in there once before this week, to talk to some school councilor after he fell asleep in class for the fourth time in one day. They had warned him about calling up his father and to write up some kind of document, records that would effect his grades if he kept doing it. He knew he was walking a tight rope here, and any day his little problem might come to light if he wasn't careful. Arthur bit his lip as he shifted his backpack, shoving his hands into his pockets. As nice as it would be to get a good night rest, he didn't want anyone to know what was happening either. When he opened the door to the office he missed a step, almost biting his tongue in surprise.

Standing there was his father, who looked like he had just swallowed a lemon by the sheer look of constipation across his face. He was giving off his signature displeased stance, his face detached and cold as he stood stiffly, his expensive suite wrinkled and slightly ripped on the top, like it had been yanked partial open, his tie crooked and loose. But what really stood out was his busted lip.

Arthur stared wordlessly, until Uther finally broke the silence.

"Arthur, we're heading to the house." His voice was frigid as he slowly turned his gaze to the door, giving it the same leveled glare he gave relatively before he completely lost it. "There are things that need to be explained. _In detail._ " He growled out the last words through pressed lips.

"Yes sir." Arthur kept his voice level as he ventured off, shifting nervously on his feet.

"Come." Uther's voice was completely dry as he turned on a heel, stalking out of the room without another word or a glance back. Arthur obediently fallowed as he glanced nervously at the back of his fathers head, the man clearly incredibly angry.

The ten minute drive back to the house was likely the most painful thing ever done in his young life, and Arthur heaved his body out of the car and ambled over to the front door like a man walking to his execution, Uther's gaze never wavering from staring ahead of himself, never giving his son a glance. He stopped to stand outside of the front door, nervous as his father yanked it out, his earlier scowl returning to his lips as he stepping in, and Arthur could see immediately what had gotten his contempt. Within second Arthur was staring at a group of people he hadn't seen possibly in centuries, or at least since a few nights rests ago.

He wasn't an expert in this, but there seemed to be a bunch of druids sitting on his father's couch.

Oh, _bloody hell_.

The two men both stood after Uther slammed the door shut behind them, yanking off his tie completely and throwing it on the banister. They were both wearing the weirdest set of medieval carnival robes he'd ever seen. One extremely old, an elderly man with ancient eyes, white hair and a long white beard, he reminded Arthur vividly of someone straight out of a fantasy book cover, his look ridiculous, and his eyes were twinkling in amusement. Literally _t_ _winkling._ The other man struck him immediately as the type of guy to laugh at a funeral, his eyes narrowed and his chin pointed upwards with a sneer, he had a envelope under his arm and was sporting a rather painful looking black eye as he glared holes into his fathers head. He had rather long oily black hair, a hooked nose and the look of someone being held against his will as he looked around the room like it was covered in vomit.

He gave the two men a pointed stare, looking between his fathers bruised knuckles and lip, and the black eye on the other man until the elderly man coughed, waving it all off kindheartedly.

"Hello," Arthur ventured after another moment, allowing a forced smile to take his features as he turned to the men politely. "I'm Arthur Evans." The _twinkling_ man- Arthur repressed a shudder- seemed to know that already as he smiled warmly, light blue eyes analyzing him from behind half-moon spectacles. But, the other man, well, Arthur didn't quite know how to receive a reaction like that. The man's cold black eyes that was quickly schooled, and he immediately turned to the elder man, wearing such an frigid expression on his face that Arthur wondered for a moment if he just hated life.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, glancing at his father as he stood up straighter, and his back went rigid as Uther's face became completely blank, not a single inclination of what he was thinking given away.

That, that wasn't good.

"Oh, nothing at all, Arthur," the elder man said cheerily. "Please, Mr. Evans, young Arthur, could we perhaps all sit down?"

"Just get on with it." Uther snapped, walking quickly to the chair near the couch and sat down, somehow still looking dignified as he scowled deeply. Arthur stood, hesitating, just inside the doorway for a moment before crossing over to other brown armchair and took a seat. He tried to not look as confused as he felt, ended up settling his expression on mild curiosity as he threaded his fingers together on his lap, looking between the men as they slowly sat back down.

"I am Albus Dumbledore," the older man introduced himself, smiling again as the room settled into an almost pleasant atmosphere. He turned towards the man still in the middle of a heated stare off with his father. "This is Professor Snape."

"Professor?" Arthur nodded as he repeated, now turning his attention to the sallow faced, hawk like man.

Dumbledore's eyes crinkled, causing his father to scoff loudly. "That's why we're here, my boy. I am headmaster of the school where Professor Snape works. It's a school for a rather few select children in the world, like yourself." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a roll of parchment, the wax seal already broken open as he adjusted his spectacles. "Dear Mr. Evans," he read carefully. "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

He looked back up from the paper, still smiling gently before he placed it down on the table between them, sliding it towards the eleven year old boy.

It was like someone had sucked all the air out of his lungs, dumping him back into that lake, the ice-cold water settling over Arthur's head. He blinked, wondering if he had somehow misheard, or perhaps simply imagined it from the lack of sleep. So he brought a hand up to his ear, quickly snapping his fingers to make sure he was hearing correctly.

What?

"Excuse me?" he squeaked, knowing his voice had cracked oddly at the end. Hogwarts? As in, a school for witchcraft and _wizardry_ _?_ These people were actually sorcerers? They were real? Thank the gods that Dumbledore assumed his shock was due to an entirely different reason as his dreams came back with a vengeance.

"You're a wizard Arthur."

_No I'm not. Merlin is, not me.  
_

"What?" Arthur asked slowly, before quickly shaking his head. "No, wait. _How_?" He did his best to keep his voice steady, his eyes flickering to look at his stone faced father as his throat quivered – and failed, he knew that – to hide his terror as images of children around his age screamed, being lit on fire or hanged, flashed behind in eyelids. He swallowed heavily. How in the world did they come up with that, how could they know something like that? The professor, Snape, pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

"Why don't you tell us?" he snapped a little more harshly than he should, and Dumbledore fixed him with a rather penetrating stare before turning back to Arthur, who finally picked up the parchment like it had teeth, glaring right back just as hotly towards the professor before scanning the paper. The headmaster chuckled as Arthur hesitantly read, making sure to keep his emotions in check as his father sat silently right next to him. His eyes rushed over the words, carefully over each word.

_Dear Mr Evans,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find a list enclosed of all necessary books and equipment. Due to your unusual circumstances and situation, you will be required to be sorted with the first years upon arrival at Hogwarts, and you shall begin in both first and seventh year. If you have any issue with this, please take it up with myself or our Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall._  
_Term starts on September 1, if you require any assistance in acquiring any school items, please ask a Hogwarts representative located at Flourish & Blotts in Diagon Alley._

 _Yours Sincerely,_  
_Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_  
_Headmaster of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards_

Arthurs's throat constricted a little when he read _his_ name within Dumbledore's array of titles, before realizing that it was most likely some sort of common sorcerer saying now a days. Which was bizarre on it's own. It would take some time to separate the two of them, from the man of legends and whoever the hell he was dreaming about. He was going to have to get used to that, or someone would get suspicious every time he jumped or looked around for a large eared idiot when his name was said, or god forbid _cursed_. The second piece of parchment had a list of his required schoolbooks, which all seemed extremely interesting and terrifying. Scanning the list once more, Arthur decided to put it away for now, unsure how to handle the idea of a what looked like an entire _country_ of just Magical people.

That... this was going to take a while to get used to. If he ever did.

"Have you ever made something happen that couldn't be explained?"

Arthur jumped, suddenly remembering he wasn't alone in his own little world before scowling. "No. I mean, how do _you_ know I'm a- well, a _wizard_?" They were called wizard now, it would be odd to say sorcerer out of the blue, right? He hoped no one noticed his slip as he pushed the list back to the headmaster.

Dumbledore was giving him the penetrating stare now, his eyes rather disturbing and Arthur's legs itched, ready to jump up on a moments notice. The Headmaster looked at him as though he was trying to see right through him, studying him. "So you have noticed it, then?" he said simply and Arthur resisted the urge to sneer like his father beside him.

"Well, yes." he fidgeted in his seat before crossing his arms, copying his fathers stiff posture. "Maybe? I mean, it was hard _not_ to notice some weird things that keep happening to me." He hoped that was the right answer. Snape had stopped pinching his nose and was giving him a look that appeared to be a cross between a glare and reluctant interest.

"Very curious. Have you spoken to anyone about this?"

"I'm not an idiot!" Arthur snapped, glaring at them so suddenly with such heat that both men were starting to stare at him again. He back tracked quickly, cursing violently in his head as he sat up straight. "What if," He stopped short and swallowed, having to clench every muscle in his face not to look over at his father, his heart pounding in his chest. "What if they locked me up?"

He hadn't meant for his voice to get so hysterical. Even after these past few months he still hadn't gotten used to the idea of ever telling _anyone_ about his visions, let alone some strangely dressed wizards. His sentence hung there in the air for a moment. It didn't really need answering, anyway.

"Mr. Evans," Snape said as he brought a hand up to rub at the bruise around his eye, "For the answer to your question, The Ministry of Magic has measures in place that detect magic in underage wizards," He explained slowly, like he was talking to a simpleton who barely understood the basics of English.

"Ministry?" Arthur repeated, his eyes growing wide. "You have a government? A Ministry like Parliament?"

"Ah, yes." The Headmaster smiled warily as he looked over at his still silent father, before turning back to him. "I'm sure you have many more questions, my boy. And I'll do my best to answer them all, but you must forgive the two of us, we don't have much time to spare."

Arthur nodded before jumping right in, momentarily forgetting his father's ire as he tried to gather as much Intel as possible. The thirty minutes went by far too quickly for him, his father still completely mute during the entirety of the meeting as Arthur asked what questions he dared. He'd asked about the creation of the Ministry, about the minister itself and their courts, and about how it all worked. He had asked about the different departments and how the wizardly world co-existed with non-magical people. He'd asked about various groups of people, on their religion- or more specifically about _Merlin-_ and on their certain laws. And, he'd asked about the school. At the same time, he tried not to appear too curious in some areas.

Asking if it was legal to run someone through with a sword if they provoked you, would probably raise too many alarms.

"That." Arthur deadpanned at the ending of the meeting as both men stood up, raising a brow from where he was sitting. ""Is that a stick?"

The professor's lip curled as the Headmaster chuckled.

"Yes. Quite right my boy. "Arthur's face twisted incredulously at his answer, looking between them in disbelief. They used wands? Sticks, they actually used sticks like they did in the movies. Do they also all have black cats and cackle at the moon as well?

"I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts," Dumbledore's eyes were alight and, with another wave of magic and a small crack, he disappeared from the middle of the room.

Uther finally reacted, all but chocking on his tongue as he gaped at the spot the elder man was just standing and Arthur turned to Snape, trying and failing to keep his face passive. The professor didn't seem to like him very much, from what he could tell, the man barely saying more than a few sparse comments during the entirety of the meeting. Maybe he just didn't like kids all that much. Whatever the reason, Arthur was growing a tad annoyed by the perpetual sneer the man was giving him and his father.

"Do you still need something?" he asked hotly, mimicking the standoffish posture that the Wizard was giving in return, narrowing his eyes as his lips drew tighter. It did nothing to faze him as he looked down at him like a bug, nowhere as demeaning as his own father, however it did remind him of someone. Who, he couldn't tell.

"Were we in class and you had showed such simple minded levels of disrespect, Mr. Evans," the Professor said in a voice of deadly calm, "you would find yourself scrubbing the cauldrons of my potions classroom for the remaining of the week. I do not tolerate insolent behavior, let alone to a superior. Is that understood?"

"Of course, Professor." Arthur's voice was just as steady, giving him his best politically apologetic smile he could muster, that didn't reach his eyes, "I would never think of doing such."

Great. This was going to be _wonderful._


	2. To Endless Mysteries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His father's not talking to him, which is better than being thrown into a bonfire he guessed. So Arthur's a wizard now, with a wand and robes and everything. But why is his acceptance letter so different from everyone else, gaining not only the attention of all of the teachers, but even the Ministry? He's barely gotten his head around the idea of having magic when another mystery rears its ugly head. Why if he's eleven, is he being sorting in with the seventh years?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Due to a significant medical condition that effects my brain, which pertains mostly to my ability to comprehend certain memories and how I interpret them, I may accidentally recite works I have read at anytime in the past, even years prior that I have not seen since. I do not recite other works on purpose and if in the future it occurs, I sincerely apologized to any author I do this to. I will never copy anyone's hard work on purpose, and, if such things are noticed please tell me immediately. I will try my best to fix what I can and contact the needed parties as soon as possible.*
> 
> Onwards- to chapter two! I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 

"This was sent out? There must be some sort of mistake." Minerva McGonagall slapped the parchment onto her desk, pulling off her spectacles in sheer disbelief. "What sense is this?"

"Magic can sometimes be the greatest mystery my dear." Dumbledore sighed as he gave her a penetrating stare, his eyes far from the idle mind some proclaimed he had gained in his old age as the woman sat up straighter in her chair. Snape had a permanent sneer twisting his features as he kept his head tilted back, a bag of ice pressed against his swollen eye and Albus hummed under his breath, bringing his cup of tea to his lips to sip gingerly.

Minerva sputtered as both men seemed perfectly content with the outcome of the parchment, the letter sitting accusingly on top the others, seemingly innocent as she pinched the bridge of her nose, clenching her jaw before exhaling slowly.

"This will just set the poor boy up for failure, you cannot be serious." She tried to get him to see reason with her eyes alone, imploring him to change his mind. "He is from a family of Muggles, he doesn't even know the basics of our culture let alone Newt level material. He will _fail_ Albus _._ " Dumbledore simple tilted his chin, let his glasses slid down his nose as Snape scoffed, before pointing upwards in a random direction.

"Hogwarts has spoken." his eyes were twinkling again even as his voice took on a clearer tone, that fitting someone of his position in the school. "The boy will join both years, and at the ending of class he will both graduate as an adult and return for his second."

Snape jerked his head forward as both professors stared at him like he'd grown a second head, the room falling into a stunned silence. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, not bothering to wait for his coworkers to catch up as he chuckled under his breath. And for a moment there was a silence so profound, that he coughed just to make sure he hadn't actually gone deaf.

"That," Severus said after blinking a few times, his bleak eyes boring into the headmaster as his lip curled, "The absolute level of stupidity is _confounding_."

"But," she was also at a complete loss, "How? Why?"

"Ah, yes." The smile on his lips and the twinkle in his eyes made a few of the portraits around the room giggle, and he too thought over the seemingly ordinary boy, Mr. Arthur Evans. Such was the way of Muggleborns, of course. No one could be sure how they would fit into the wizardly world until they actually arrived. And what a mystery the boy was turning out to be. He hadn't even become a student yet and he was already creating quite an uproar within the halls. Hopefully, he wouldn't get lost in the upcoming year with their other resident celebrity.

"Now those are the answers I would like as well."

* * *

It had taken Arthur almost half a year to realize that his dreams weren't going away, to come to terms with them, and after watching his apparent death and the war on magic he visited every library he could to find and scoured for information. Once he discovered the ancient stories of King Arthur and Merlin- whom acted _nothing_ like the one he knew- he was, well, he knew something wasn't right.

And now, now this. Until he figured it out, figured out how he had magic, figured out what was wrong with his head or whatever the hell it was, he wasn't going to utter a word of it to anyone. Arthur was only sure of two things, and both were most likely related. Whomever Merlin, _his Merlin_ was needed to be figured out- and in result everything else would come into play after. All these moments about his father decimated the magical users, of the balance of magic in the world somehow being wrong, and the only way the world could right itself was by placing all of that magic into one human, into Merlin- he would figure it out if he could just find out the truth, find Merlin.

His idiotic, scrawny, can't walk without falling over and almost dying sorcerer in hiding, Merlin. But was he the same from the books, the same from his nights?

Between the fistfight his father clearly traded with his new professor, to the old warlock that had been sitting in his living room a mere night ago, he didn't get a wink of sleep. Combined with the weary glances he kept giving his locked bedroom Arthur was actually a little nervous. Not that he would ever admit that out loud. He would be ready to go when the teacher arrived again but he was fairly certain he wouldn't enjoy the experience. After tossing and turning he finally sat on the side of the bed, instead clenching the acceptance letter between his itching fingers as he read each word, analyzing it for the slightly details. He was looking for even the smallest notions of what might come next.

_'Please find a list enclosed of all necessary books and equipment. Due to your unusual circumstances and situation, you will be required to be sorted with the first years upon arrival at Hogwarts, and you shall begin in both first and seventh year.'_

He still couldn't understand that part. The instructions were tucked away in the middle so inconspicuously that he could almost ignore it. What unusual situation could make him jump and take two years at the same time? And the list. There were twice as many books than there would be if he was just a simple first year student! Some course books were repeated twice in different edition as his curriculum was literally tripled in length, there were even extra required materials that he'd never even heard of. The Professor said that he would be coming later tomorrow- or was it today now?- to take him to get his school supplies.

He would be taking classes with upperclassmen as well as trying not to get cursed or turned into a frog by magical children. Arthur glanced at the time, groaned and thumped his head back against the pillows. After a moment, he drew a deep breath and let it out. Great, wonderful.

So he didn't fall asleep, it wasn't like he missed much.

Clearly his brain had been infected, going by the warm feeling of anticipation spreading in his gut.

Arthur rubbed his eyes raw before emerging from his room, quietly closing the door behind him so not to disturb the house, his father already in his study. Whether he was truly a king who could kill or not, he wasn't going to mind his son avoiding him like the plague. Arthur had decided to take a long berth from his father, though not ideal, it was the best option, a bit to spur discipline to the less genocidal tendencies of his sire. It was just the thing the man approved of ordinarily, when they had an argument in the past it was him that cracked first, but instead of wavering like normal eleven year olds did, Arthur would keep it up until he was gone for the ten months school. And after last night- the uncharacteristically long hesitation Uther had shown after the sorcerers left, there didn't seem much of an alternative. He had just stared at him for the longest time before walking away, neither speaking nor blinking and for just a minute, Arthur really thought he was going to end up a missing persons where no one found the body. Or disowned at least.

He made his way to the kitchen, the sun rising and he cringed, running a had through his hair. The Professor would be here at seven sharp and Arthur had obviously lost his mind, giving a mulish look which suggested he wasn't interested in finding it again either as he started putting together his breakfast. He didn't cook, the maids were off for the weekend, so he instead just slapped some slices of bread together with jam. Watching the clock like a hawk he turned on the television to drown out the silence, reading himself for when the professor arrived as he washed up a little and put his things together, throwing his bag over his shoulder. And he only had to wait another thirty minutes before there was a loud knock on the front door.

Professor Snape was wearing the same dress robes and the yellowish bruise across his right pitiless black eye was really doing wonders for his complexion. He stood stiffly on the other side of the door, shooting him a glance Arthur managed not to recoil at, the look of utter loathing directed at him as he stepped aside to let the man into the front room. Okay, so he didn't like him – or perhaps he was just a terrible cross person to begin with. He was going to go with the latter, he'd seem like the type that would kneel over dead if he tried to crack a smile once.

"I see that you are adequate to leave. I take it that Mr. Evans will not be," Snape paused, his lip curling, "c _oming_ with."

Snape gave him a hard look and Arthur swallowed. His father was just in the other room right now, working at his desk; he could hear their conversation perfectly most likely-

The Professor nodded as if Arthur had actually said something in answer. "Then we will be spending most the morning and afternoon getting your materials, and begin to consider the consequences of your actions _yourself_. Mischief is not tolerated on this trip, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," Arthur said, disparately, and tried to make it look as though he was just an angel by putting his hands behind his back as the professor glared at him. "Perfectly." _Like that's ever stopped me before. I've had better arguments from servants._ And as he tried to give him a disarming shrug, he quickly adding on a nod and a Sir for good measure.

He would never know if the man had even heard him as he turned away and started walking. Arthur followed him, unable to keep himself from staring as he pulled his wand from his side when they reached the crossroad, stopping impatiently for the shorter boy to catch up.

* * *

He stopped, looking at the tiny grungy pub, and any recent concerns he had about a militarized wizards country full of evil magical users vanished, making him feel rather silly.

He glanced toward Snape. "I thought you said Diagon Alley?" He asked confused.

Snape's lip curled again, like Arthur was asking an obvious question, wasting his valuable time. "Just follow," he said icily as he led the way into the pub even as he looked up at the wizard like he had lost his mind.

"Professor, are you, are we at the right place? I honestly think we will get mugged if we go in there."

"Do _not_ interrupt me with mundane observations," Snape bit sharply. Arthur clamped his lips together, recognizing the signs of a man loosing his patience. And, though Snape didn't have any knifes or swords to heave at him, he _did_ have a wand.

It was dark inside and the old building somehow filled Arthur's nostrils with the familiar scent of ale and beer, polished wood and musky wines. Each table seemed slightly off, the walls were a bit too close and there were hanging beams and old rugs hanging about as if the balance had been measured and then carefully ignored. Though the wood had a different scent here, as he glanced around at the patrons he cringed; the images of here and now blurring together with familiar scenes from another time, reminding him a little of the tavern back at Camelot, or, more correctly back in his dreams. One witch was smoking a pipe and a few men tossed back drinks at their tables, the bartender merely nodding as they passed, but then when they past the exit and entered the trashy courtyard, something made Arthur stop dead.

He could feel it. Instantly, his attention was drawn to a buzz of magical activity all but rolling off the wall, the bricks squirming with jittery nerves.

Arthur blanched. He could _feel_ magic.

"I admit that it is not the most aesthetic entrance to the Alley," Snape gave him a hard look, pointedly analyzing him from head to toe before taking out his wand again and tapping a few bricks on the wall. "But perhaps you will agree that appearances can be deceiving?"

Arthur watched, his scratchy response cut short on the tip of his tongue as brick and mortar moved out of their way, smoothly folding into their neighbors until they became a doorway. He stared as the wave of energy hit him, and had he not caught himself he might have ended up smacked on his arse as his legs swayed slightly. A concentration of magic far greater than he had ever felt before even on the edge of the lake passed around him, making his fingers tingle slightly. It reminded him of something, of someone, but intensified as a quaint brick archway formed. But more importantly, as the magical shopping district came into view.

Shops with glass windows stretched down the street, with items both inside and out stacked for easy viewing. Cauldrons, strange animal parts, books and what looked like a hat shop, one store even had different types of brooms in the window. And the people, so many different wizards, witches, and enchantments were all in the same place hurrying around like they were straight out of the medieval age with gowns and flowing robes.

Arthur opened his mouth three times, stared, and when he felt a hand close on his shoulder squeezing tightly he took a tentative step forward.

"Welcome to Diagon Ally." Snape spoke dryly, waving off in a random direction as he steered the boy forward, as if witnessing this was somehow an everyday thing. Arthur may or may not have made a few unusually high squeaking sounds as Severus continued to gesture down the street.

"Mr. Evans, stop gawking and use your legs. You'll have plenty of time to observe the wonders of the magical community after we get your allowance." From the way that Snape spoke, Arthur was fairly certain he still didn't like him. "We will be heading to Gringotts first."

"The, er- the what?" Arthur said, blankly as they passed a store completely full of _owls_ of all things. He followed behind, nearly having to brake into a run as he tried to catch up with the professor who was leaving him in the dust. It was lucky that the frigid man still had a slight limp from yesterday or he might have been lost the moment he stepped into the busily morning crowd. The man still stood out the way he did, a head taller than everyone else and possessing a certain ominous dreadful aura that made others think twice before knocking into him, but the eleven year old wasn't so lucky.

Arthur looked around grudgingly as he took another elbow to the side, "What's Gringotts." He frowned, taking a better grip of his bag. "Is that a place?"

"A bank." and here Snape's lip curled, his tone turning icy, "Keep in mind to be _polite_. I have no desire to repeat the appalling experience of your families ability to make enemies at first glance." Arthur narrowed his eyes a fraction as he clenched his hands behind his back, before settling on glaring at the back of the mans head instead of gracing him with a few comments of his own.

"Yes, of course sir," he said dryly. "I will keep that to myself."

Arthur decidedly said very little on the walk to Gringotts. He was still silently fuming, but knew better than to push his luck. He wasn't an adult in this situation – no matter what his mind deduced, and Snape was nothing like his court sorcerer. With his manservant, they'd had this tacit agreement that somehow banter worked even through different social statues. He supposed that everyone had their limits and this wizard had no reason to show him the slightest ounce of respect.

Not that it didn't make him grind his teeth any less.

He led him to a bright white building that seemed to stand securely over its neighbors. The building was oddly crooked as well, as though built by someone who'd only had a vague idea of what straight lines were. The marbled stone made him uneasy, and Arthur caught sight of a plaque on the wall as they passed it, the strong bronze doors held open and guarded. Arthur looked out into the bank, at the beautiful office space with ornate antique desks and lines of patrons, and as they continued forward they walked to the back of the line- he caught sight of the employees. He blinked, staring at the scene for a moment before whipping around to face Snape with a hiss.

"Goblins? You- Are those _goblins?_ _"_

If looks could truly kill, Snape was trying to send him to the deepest pits of hell.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Arthur glared right back. "I didn't know goblins were a normal everyday occurrence now. Must have slipped your mind in mentioning it." he snapped.

Snape's scowl didn't ease as they walked further up, more goblins not even his height walking past unbeknownst to the heated discussion. "Creatures that are hoarders of gold tend to be the best at protecting it." His voice was in a deadly whisper, barely a glance spared toward one of the beings in question. "In fact, they have been here as long as wizardly place."

"Wonderful, Professor." Arthur whispered back, hiking his bag higher on his shoulder as they reached a teller. "I will keep that in mind."

Snape rolled his eyes and grabbed the back of his shirt, almost dragging him to the front desk. The professor really had no patience or love of children, did he?

They came to an open desk where a goblin with pointed ears and long skeletal fingers greeted them. When he smiled, Arthur saw needle like teeth and he could feel the now noticeable prickle of magic against his skin, an organic type of scrapping that made the hair on his arms stand up. The Goblin caught Arthur's eyes and gave a quick bow of his head and Arthur, caught off balance by it, automatically bowed back.

He stood a little taller as the Professor leaned forward into the teller window.

"Mr. Evans wishes to withdraw his quota from the Funds for Muggleborns account," Snape told the goblin in a tone of cool politeness and Arthur managed a very small polite smile as the goblin continued to glance unwaveringly at him. The dark skinned creature kept his eyes for a long moment, and he could see curiosity as well as something else reflected in its clear black eyes.

"I assume you have his card?" it, or he replied at last, turning back to Snape. The goblin's voice was graveled and rough, though oddly higher pitched than Arthur had expected.

"Indeed," Snape produced a shiny silver card from the pocket of his robes. It had elegant gold and black writing on the surface, but Arthur didn't see what it said before the professor placed it on the counter. "I also have this extra request from the Headmaster." Snape continued and he placed a large black folder on the desk.

The goblin glanced at the folder with a scowl before holding the card in his thin hands almost delicately, slowly raising a thin brow and he pursed his lips into a tight line. After a moment he nodded and slid the card back. "If you would follow Griphook, Professor, he will take your matters. I will see to the young sir."

From what Arthur could tell by the professor's expression, he was very surprised by that. It was only there for a split second, because the next moment he nodded, schooling his features and turned to Arthur. "Do not leave. Wait for me to return here in the lobby."

"Is it _normal_ to leave children alone with goblins?" Arthur cleared his throat. "Or do you simply really, really dislike me?" he said.

Snape looked almost amused, as if he was surprised he had normal survival instincts in the first place. Maybe it was because he sounded so apprehensive about that prospect. "If you're envisioning a brutal creature, you'll be sadly disappointed. You've already shown your capability to understand tact, do continue to use it."

Both Arthur and the Goblin looked harshly at Severe, who missed it as he turned, walking away from the desk and through a corridor where another goblin was standing. In a moment, he had vanished from sight and Arthur was left alone in the lobby with the other employee. The Goblin coughed to catch the attention of a guard before turning back to Arthur with an almost polite nod. "I will bring you to a private room, there we will discuss the prospects of your investment before turning to the vault. Is that agreeable?" At the boys nod, he turned hailing down another Goblin before closing his til.

"Mr. Evans," the goblin said and Arthur turned with him. "This way, if you please." He took a deep breath and followed the goblin toward a hallway in the opposite direction. He couldn't help but notice that as they passed other goblins, every single one looked up curiously before giving the same measured bow as they walked past. He was starting to feel a familiar sense of crowd awareness, self-conscious as every eye seemed to be on him as he passed. Why were they giving him such an odd look, or was this normal behavior for their species?

Eventually they were situated in a smaller chamber, rich woods covering the walls and a thick carpet under them. The goblin, who called himself Nagnok, saluted the Goblin sitting at the only desk in the room before he silently left. Arthur did have a bit of a swallowing moment when he was beckoned forward by the much larger Goblin to sit at the chair, and he turned his head and raised a rather elegant eyebrow as Arthur wearily took it.

Arthur was surprised by the sheer size of this one, who grinned a mouth of teeth as he too bowed his head after a moment of silence.

"I am Shirknot." His eyes glinted as he looked at the boy, pausing to take him in like he was covered in gold before he all but purred, "Sire."

The room stilled under his words.

Arthur stayed seated, frozen in place as a frigid chill raced down his spine, seemingly chilling the air in his lungs. He held the sides of the cushion to the chair so tightly that it started digging into the flesh under his nails, and as the goblin's grin only grew wider Arthur's face grew more and more pale. Chuckling and leaning back into his chair Shirknot watched in amusement as Arthur tried to stay outwardly calm, sitting up straight. The sudden proper address tripled his heart rate, and he could feel his gut churning, a panicked nausea coming over him.

"I'm not—" he tried to say, but the goblin spoke over him.

"You bare the deeds of Emrys, Sire." Shirknot's hissed, excitement and intrigue within its viscous grin. "The mark of the owner to the Prince of Enchanters and Albion."

"The what?" Arthur could feel the weight on his throat as he swallowed, shaking his head absently as his eyes stayed intent on the beast. "Good god, no. I don't know what you're talking about-" he trailed off pointedly. He hoped that he sounded more convincing than he felt.

Shirknot nodded. "Indeed." The goblin cocked his head to the side, as though he were gazing at a puzzle that he desperately wanted to solve. "Yet you bear _his_ name, Sire."

"What? It's a common name! There must be millions of people with the name Arthur!" he blurted, scooting toward the door after shooting to his feet, his hands cold as his legs prepared to run back into the lobby. The goblin _knew-_ somehow knew about things he could barely wrap his own head around. He was ready to make a dash for it when Shirknot laughed.

"True indeed." The goblin didn't look convinced as he tilted his head to the side, analyzing him again. He appeared thoughtful for a moment, and then he started tapping his fingers against his desk in seemingly impatience. "Be not fearful of our kingdom, Emrys has the loyalty of all magic and we goblins are bound by the balance. You are his bearer, his Sire and in extension our Liege."

Arthur stopped dead, gaping at Shirknot in shock.

"I- that is-" He stopped very abruptly and, with the wisdom surpassing his age, sat back down.

"Those who go after which is protected by Emrys will also face the wrath of the goblins. If you were attacked, it would be our world that would reap the consequences of the Prince's ire. Remember this Sire, for when you need it, you will have our swords." The goblin bowed low this time before standing, a large ancient looking gold key held out in his hand. "No goblin will reveal you, Sire, and none will speak of your name. But do well to hide the belonging you will receive today from the view of all others, for we are not the only ones who know its linage."

Shirknot pressed a rune on his desk and said some words in a strange language, a black iron door suddenly appearing on the wall next to them in a flash of light. It looked ancient, a large solid lock in the middle and unknown ruins carved across the edges. Moments later the office door slammed opened behind him and two armed guards marched in, their armor polished and pristine as they took their spots on either side of the new door, standing proud.

Arthur watched carefully as Shirknot placed a sharp knife on the desk before sliding the key across the wood towards him, "Er," Arthur said, desperately, and tried to make it look as though he had kept up with everything that just happened. Clearing his throat he sat up straight, "All right, um Shirknot, what exactly am I receiving?"

He waved the question off. "Merely open your vault," he said. "though no; we will not discuss its contents even among our own employees, Sire."

"And, those would be—" Arthur said, nervously.

"To your vault," Shirknot said firmly, pointing a clawed hand at the key with a raised brow which meant that this was going to go only one way from now on.

He was silent for a moment, then he nodded and bowed in reply, retrieving both the knife and key from the desk. "I shall," he murmured. The panic had fled for a more guarded approach, the churning in his stomach calmed as he titled his head to the guards. There was a strange comfort in the words of the goblin, the same comfort he'd had when the he had a few seemingly nonsensical dreams. "May I ask a question?"

"Yes sire." Shirknot nodded, still having the look of intrigue to his viciousness.

"You say bearer, that I am the bearer to deeds of an Enchanter. Why?"

And the goblin grinned once more. "Because, you are the Once and Future King, my Liege."

Arthur stared.

"Now," The Goblin was starting to sound a bit impatient as Arthur remained silent in his seat. "On your will?" he pointed at the door as he finally went to his feet, his knees suspiciously shaky as Arthur approached the iron door. He looked down at the knife in his hands, carefully testing the weight and balance as he brought the key up to the lock, twisting it until he heard the loud pop of gears opening.

"So. It is a nice knife."

Shirknot seemed to have caught on as he nodded, "Sir Evans, the door requires a few drops of your blood against the lock. The stone will compare your blood to determine its fidelity and for any discrepancies." He saw his expression and quickly continued. "The knife is covered in carvings of runes, it cuts only enough to draw what is needed and heals as it goes. It's rather ancient, and is used for the oldest vaults we have. It is perfectly safe."

His blue, now blankly kept eyes still stared. "Well, what happens if there are... _discrepancies?"_ He turned to the Goblin, who instead of answering held his long taloned hand out and with a clenched jaw, Arthur gave him both the blade and his own hand.

He watched stiffly, the hair on the back of his neck raising as the blade was carefully pressing against his palm until a set of red drops appeared, and then pressed against the iron. Pain he could handle, still this was- unpleasant to give someone his hand in such a manner. He could feel the metal under his palm soak the blood in, and suddenly his entire arm felt warm. Shirknot released him, and he could feel the skin start to knit back together as he slowly pulled his hand back, the sensation slightly itchy. Then a loud metallic crack rocked the door before it slowly creaked open, a cloud of dust pillowing out from underneath it. The gears screeched loudly as it opened inwards and he turned to look at Shirknot, silently asking for permission before pushing his hand against the door to open it fully. When the goblin nodded once more he took a breath and stepped inside.

It was dark, extremely so that Arthur had to squint as he took a few more careful steps. The Goblins stayed outside, not even peering in as he turned his head, trying to discern anything around him. He could see the outlines of shapes of what appeared to be shelves upon shelves of objects lining the entire room, which was as larger than he could have imagine. Cups, swords, paintings, armor, bookcases, trunks, books, scrolls and jewelry twinkled in the sliver of light provided by the door and though there was dust on the ground, none of it touched the possessions inside.

There was a loud chink as something collided with his shoe, and whatever it was was solid and heavy.

Unbelievable. No, impossible.

He bent down. There, ready for him to pick up and take, was his red cloak wrapped delicately around his sword.

_Around Excalibur._

It hadn't changed a bit from how he saw it at night, like it hadn't spent any given time at the bottom of an enchanted lake. And even though it was too long and too heavy for him to even begin to use in the next coming years the blade's handle still somehow fit perfectly in his hand. The cloak was in pristine condition, a thousand years never touching it, the kept clothe glint deep red in the dim light and the crest of Camelot etched in gold thread. He stood and straightened once more, staring at it in wonder. He had thought he'd never see it again, that it was but a creation of his vivid imagination, or a hoax of a childish mind. And, he could tell just by holding it in his hand, all of Merlin's enchantments- the ones he'd gotten away with while Arthur hadn't known the idiot was a sorcerer- were just as powerful as the day his servant cast them.

This was proof of who he was. This was proof that Merlin was there, that he had truly saved him that day.

He trailed his fingers reverently over the fabric, around it as he existed the vault, bowing in thanks to the Goblins and emotions not entirely understandable all but overtook him. Arthur was frowning hard as he clenched his jaw, the skin of his face uncomfortably warm as he gripped the cloak within his hands tightly, close to his chest. "Thank you," he told the goblins.

"No thanks is needed, Sire. It is yours."

* * *

The goblin that led Severus back to the main lobby nodded in farewell, opening the door that lead back to the vaults without a word. He returned the nod, and quickly swept past him to stand by the entrance of the bank, in clear view. He had nothing against goblins, even if he didn't particularly enjoy their company – he _was_ , however, more worried about what sort of shenanigans and down right trouble his newly made _charge_ had gotten into during the last half hour left unsupervised.

Evans.

The name was a painful reminder of things left completely forgotten. It grated him the wrong way every time it rose in his mind, the feeling that he should try harder to smoother the sensation the next time. He had been curious at first, taking the case of the Muggleborn simply because of his closeness to the offspring of Potter, but blaming a boy because of a name was pathetic. He didn't even resemble her, nor did he remind any part of his memory of simpler times. No, Arthur Evans was nothing different or extraordinary other than in his school schedule.

Getting tripped up on a generic common name was ridiculously _pitiful_.

Snape looked up as the large door in the back, the ones used for important high profile clients snapped open, catching sight of the boy leaving the doors from the other side. He entered the lobby as though in a daze, starting to make his way over to him when something made him pause. The goblin that they'd first met was handing Evans a sack of gold – the funding, no doubt, that he quickly put into his bag on his back. The boy bowed – thank Merlin, it seemed he had _some_ sort of manners underneath– but then, to Snape's astounded horror, the goblin bowed back. He quickly made his way towards the boy, watching the scene for several incredulous moments. A goblin bowing to a wizard wasn't unheard of. Though the act should have been filled with mockery, as goblin and wizard relations had always been strained. They wouldn't bow if they didn't have too, and certainly not to a goldless Muggleborn student.

What, exactly did the boy _do_ in a half hour?

"Mr. Evans," Snape answered curtly, his voice seemingly snapping the boy the rest of the way out of the haze. He blinked up at him, as if he didn't notice him standing there before. "Did you perhaps force the goblins to bow in order to get rid of you?"

"What?" Arthur blinked, still flushed a little, "Of course not." He cleared his throat as he shifted his weight, the glimmer of something red poking through a portion of his unzipped bag. "I think they are rather polite- for the most part, actually." He was getting that tone again, one that was quite arrogant, was of someone a bit too old, and filled with social experience he shouldn't have at this age. "We seemed to get along just fine. And I thought this was how Goblins were anyways- with the bowing and all."

Snape's lip curled in a way Arthur was getting quite used to. "Clearly you are more versed in the ways of Creature Relations than I." He spoke dryly, surveying him as if he had committing a crime.

The Professor had a calculating expression on his face as Arthur considered muttering something inappropriate. From what Severus could gather just at the look of it, the goblins had taken the boy to a preexisting vault, clearly meaning the boy wasn't as Muggle based as they all had first thought. But Arthur stayed quiet as Snape surveyed him, and he clearly wasn't going to volunteer whatever information he had learned about himself with him. And, as etiquette demanded, Snape could not pry. It was probably nothing more than an old family heirloom from a dead line, anyway. Definitely not from a Pureblood family though– they kept meticulous track of their line purity far too greatly to let mixed blood gain any of their wealth.

"Then, I would rather we finish this outing before nightfall. Unless you have anymore business with goblins?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "No sir." There was the barest hint of mockery in his tone to match Snapes. "You know, just in case, you should go ahead and check to make sure everything is in order?"

Snape practically tried to set him on fire with his eyes alone, the look of contempt so great it was rather shocking. "Do not speak to me in such a tone," he whispered. "Unless you want to find yourself back at your residence and all your supplies delivered by mail and of the lowest quality."

That made Arthur snap his mouth shut, clamping his lips together so tight that he was probably the mirror image of his father at his worst. Clenching his fist to his sides as though he were fighting back a retort, Snape turned back to the entrance as Arthur gathered himself. As he stalked off he took a long deep, steadying breath digging his fingers into the strap of his bag. Only a little bit longer and then he'd be free of this wretched beady eyed man.

"Come, now." Snape snapped more aggressively as Arthur didn't immediately move, making his way out of the bank. Arthur scowled before walking beside him; looking somewhat like he would rather trip him the first opportunity he got than make it to the next destination.

After a moment Arthur started speaking again, trying to break the tense atmosphere as they again dodged through the crowds in the street. "So, the Goblins." Arthur trailed off, having the barest hint of a smile as he thought back to it and Snape shot him a look in the corner of his eyes, clearly wanting him to shut up. "Not so bad an idea after all. Apparently, I mean they aren't—"

"Yes, clearly. Because the wizardly world _must_ obey your ideals of decorum. So pleased that it has so far passed your approval," Snape sneered, his words dripping with sarcasm. "Do we need you to approve the daily papers as well?"

Arthur turned up to look at him, the smile on his lips anything but friendly. "Sorry sir _,_ I did not realize I needn't have an opinion in these matters."

Snape ground his teeth together, but thankfully didn't have to respond as "Ollivanders" wand creation store came into view, the stick painted on the window certainly wandish as he opened the door and pushed the boy in, stepping behind another group of shoppers. The group was in the middle of the entrance, and Arthur had to step aside as a little girl with bushy brown hair and normal everyday Muggle clothes almost bumped into him.

"Oh, terrible sorry!" She seemed overly excited about everything and anything before becoming apparently embarrassed, only now noticing him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

"It's fine." Arthur said. "A simple mistake." Then he offered his hand, giving her a polite nod as she quickly took it. "It's all still overwhelming, even for me. I'm Arthur Evans. I assume you from a non-magical family like me?"

It was like he had just offered the girl never ending loyalty, her smile almost splitting her face as she shook his hand enthusiastically. "Yes! I was so worried I would be the only one here who didn't know about magic until now and none of the wands or magical things would choose me, and that it would all turn out that this was a big mistake and I wouldn't be able to go to Hogwarts! Especially after it had taken so long to find everything, especially my wand with how many I had to go through, but _finally_ I found one that felt right and it was warm to the touch and sparks went everywhere and it was all rather exciting! But I hope the shop will be alright because I accidentally caught fire to one of the shelves in the back, though I did say I was sorry. I'm Hermione Granger by the way It's very nice to meet you!"

"Er," Arthur said. "I may have missed _a bit_. Could you say half of that again, and breath this time?" He grinned at her as she awkwardly blushed, looking down and shuffling her feet. "I got out that you're name is miss Granger? Well, it's nice to meet you."

She smiled even as she continued to look down, "It's nice to meet you too." She gave him a shy wave before following her apparently bemused mother out the door, and he watched as the little witch duck out of sight as quickly as she could.

How in the world had he thought a child like that was the destruction of society itself at one point, he couldn't fathom it now.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Arthur."

Arthur spun quickly, the voice was far too close, only to see an old man sitting inches from his face right next to him on a stool. Snape was on the other side of the room, watching the elderly man in disinterest as he picked up a jar from the counter and turned the content, and the man grinned at him with wide pale blue eyes.

"Hello?" For a moment Arthur could think that he was blind, but the intensity of how he stared into his face made him throw that thought out. Forcing himself to calm down as the older man walked closer to the counter of the store, humming softly under his breath as he ruffled around things in the cabinets, it was obvious now that this was the store owner.

"Always so interesting, finding the one for a first generation." He seemed to fade back into his own memories. "Ah, when a child who only first learns about magic finds it for the first time, a complete mystery even to their own- it's quiet a beautiful thing. I remember a Surrey girl when she touched her wand fourteen years ago for the first moment, her eyes glowed like the ocean. It took thirteen tries, and she had bonded with a six and three quarter inch wand of holy oak. Long, swishy, but surprisingly coarse to the touch." He grinned as he continued. "Always a surprise though, took over forty tries once for just one first generation. He was quite annoyed by the end. But magic is as magic be."

Arthur stared up at him, before giving a small smile in return, pretending to understanding whatever the hell he was on about. "So, there is a wand for every person?"

Ollivander sighed dramatically and turned to the counter, picking up a tape measure covered in marker lines. "As long as there are babes born with magic, there will be wands forged. Every wand I craft uses a core of a powerful magical substance- freely given hairs of griffon and unicorns, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon heartstrings- therefore each owner of said wand holds that core as their responsibility, as an extension of themselves. Sadly, I sell wands that can great destruction as much as great creation. One man, he did such terrible things with one of my darlings, things of great magnitude, but terrible in nature."

He paused at that, turning to catch Arthur's eyes with an expression far too clear, that held too much sudden meanings for everyday conversation. Arthur stopped shifting in place as he narrowed his eyes, and Ollivander looked over the wands again before shaking his head, a small half-smile upon his face as he stepped forward to grip Arthur by the shoulder before he could protest.

"No two wands are alike, Mr. Evans, and you will never find the same magic in the world again once it is gone for good. The user and the wand grow, together." He grinned as he nodded to himself, holding out the tape measure towards Arthur. "Now, let's find you your new wizardly sword and armor. Which is your dominant arm?"

"My, my right?" Arthur said in a strangled voice, and Ollivander gave him one moment before he started to measure him from head to toe, shoulder to finger, wrist to nose, knuckle to ear, and other absure things. He notices Arthur's incredulous look as he raised an eyebrow, and he grinned back before retrieving three boxes.

"A rather special case you are, I rather start with the absurd and work our way back." he pulled out a long white wand, handing it over quickly. "A double core and double wood for starters. Well, give it a swish." Severus seemed to choke by the corner, his eyes going wide as he surveyed him for a moment, his black pitiless eyes trying to stare right through him. Arthur tried not to fidget or squirm, but it _was_ very uncomfortable to be under the scope of such scrutiny while also giving this other man his full attention.

Arthur held the wand in his hand like he would the hilt of a blade, before flicking it to the side. The white polished wood seemed to rattle against his fingers before gallons upon gallons of strawberries suddenly started falling from the ceiling.

"What?" Arthur yelped, shielding his face from the assault as he tried to duck for cover.

"Evans!" Severus hissed, covering his face with his robes.

"What!? It's not me!"

"Ah." Ollivander remarks dryly, snatching the wand back as both Arthur and Professor Severus squawked and tried to hide behind furniture, covering their heads with whatever they could find as they were pelted by fruit. "No no no, not that one." he hummed as he grabbed a newspaper, covering the top of his face as Snape finally fled out the door, leaving the two to fend and wait it out.

The wand maker grabbed the longer deep grey wand and after another ten seconds the waterfall of strawberries tapered off. Quickly he thrust the wand right under Arthur's nose, the boy still looking up at the ceiling in horror. "Here. It's a single base, double core, nine and four corners."

"What? You _want_ me to touch another one? " Arthur said horrifyingly, pointing at the now fruit covered floor that was halfway up his shoes. "Are you mad?!"

"It's debatable." He clearly thought about it in the past, seemingly sad. "I suppose the faster you get it done with, the quicker it will be over." And he held out the wand again, raising a brow.

Arthur stopped the vicious counterargument before it could pass his lips and, with grated teeth, grabbed the wand. Closing his eyes tight he quickly shook it like a rattle.

The sound of a large animal cry he had never heard before screamed through the shop, actually rattling the windows, and Arthur dropped the wand to cover his ear with a yelp.

"Hmm, the cry of an enraged Emu. A bird native to Australia." Ollivander mussed as he picked up the discarded wand, not the slightest bit bothered. "Strange. But I've heard worse."

"Well I haven't!" He snapped as he put his fingers in his ears, trying to rub away the ringing. "What type of business model is this?" Arthur said, and then paused to shudder as the old man just chuckled. After another moment to realize he wasn't getting out of this he drew a deep breath and let it out, holding out his hand before cringing. "All right," he said, grimly. "There's no help for it. What's next?"

The Old man acted like it was his birthday and Christmas all wrapped together as he stared at Arthur's extended hand, before grabbing the last wand on the table. It was crafted stone and the longest by far, the bottom carved like a handle and rest spiraled into a sharp point with deep curved grooves. It looked nothing like the others, and the wand maker was all but bouncing in place as he described it.

"A wand made of Ancient unique stone, with the duel core of dragon heartstrings and unicorn hair, it's an outstanding eleven inches _exactly_. Absolute coarse and snappy." he than gently placed the wand into the boy's waiting hands, taking a measured step back as Arthur held it straight up, inspecting every inch. He looked carefully as he moved the wand to the side, the stone surprisingly warm and smooth under his palm and it felt right, the weight and balance perfect.

"Well," Ollivander said, biting his lip so not to squeal in excitement. "give it a snap."

And he did, slicing it to the side out of instinct, and the brilliant array of sparks few from the end and arched like lightning.

"An instant connection indeed." Ollivander's eyebrows shot way up as Arthur stared in wonder, "It seems perfectly matched, as though created just for you. One of the best connections I've ever seen." Arthur stared between his wand and the elder man as he hummed, leaning back. "Congratulations, Mr. Evans. "

* * *

"You left me." Arthur snarled, all but willing the Professor's hair to start prematurely balding as he glared at the back of his stupidly cowardly cranium. "I was viciously attacked by magical fruit and you just left me there to fend for myself. Bloody ran away! If I never step foot in that store it'll be too soon." he growled, collapsing back into his chair as he held an unreasonable large stack of books in his lap. Snape raised a brow, watching as the boy twisted around and started stuffing twenty books into a backpack that was _clearly_ too small- when had he received a bigger on the inside bag?

Snape nearly had to drag Arthur down the street to the book store, and they spent more than an hour getting both years worth of material, neither of them hiding their ire for each other anymore. When they finally reached Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, and the witch herself greeted them at the counter Arthur stumbled at the suddenly welcome atmosphere of the store. Elderly and kind, she curtseyed when she saw the pair of them, before coming around the counter corner to greet them personally.

"Severus!" she huffed with a smile. "Lovely to see you again. Come for some new work robes?"

He inclined his head to her, quickly changing his face into a neutral stance as she tutted over him. "Not today, Madam. Just Mr. Evans here."

"Oh!" She looked down, just noticing the shorter blond boy half hidden behind the teacher and all but cooed. "Oh my, what a lovely young man!"

"Professor Snape?" A shrewd voice rang out, "What _happened_ to your face?"

Snape looked up, catching sight of another boy that was getting fitted by one of Madam Malkin's assistants. Light blonde hair delicately styled and handsome angled features, Draco Malfoy would have looked like the dignified politician he was bred to be, had it not been for that ugly pout. From the condescending look and propriety to the sharp grey eyes. Even so, Arthur knew a spoiled child of a court to a lesser king when he saw one.

"Draco, getting your school supplies today as well?" From the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur's face become eerily blank as he regard the young Malfoy, almost an exact replica of a perfect dignified pureblood that it caught him off guard.

Draco nodded and then turned his attention to Evans. Both boys stared each other down for a moment, and Snape could see the oddest emotion flashing through Draco's gaze. As though he felt a belated kinship to a boy he had never met before – which struck Snape as downright peculiar.

"Ah, this is—" Snape began, feeling that introductions were in order before faltering as Arthur didn't change his face back to normal. "Mr. Evans, you'll both be attending Hogwarts together."

" _Evans?"_ Draco repeated, suddenly sounding rather confused. His tone was almost rude. "I've never heard of that sir name before." Snape glanced quickly toward Arthur to see if he was offended, or even understood, but he was surprised to see the opposite. Arthur looked _pleased._ As though he didn't mind in the slightest that no wizard had ever heard of his name before.

"Yes," Arthur smirked, standing up straight and completely composed, he looked just as royal and proud as any attending. "I'm not—"

"You can talk in a minute!" Madam Malkin interrupted with a huff, holding up a hand between them as if to cut it off the conversation physically. "Just hop onto the stool on the other side so I can start measuring your robes!"

Arthur nodded. "Right, sorry madam," he said sheepishly and he quickly moved to the spot the witch had indicated. Madam Malkin slipped a robe over his head and begun to pin it to the correct lengths. It didn't escape Snape's notice of how comfortable the boy was during the fitting. Like he had done this many times in the past.

Surely not, he was Muggleborn. This wasn't normal behavior for them.

"My father should be back in a moment," Draco told Severus and he nodded his head stiffly, aware of how even the boys drawling tone was reminiscent of Lucius. "He's just looking at books at the moment. Mother's up the street as well."

"Are both your parents wizards?" Arthur turned, actually rather interested in the idea of people not only living in areas like this but _growing up_ in this world altogether. How different they must be.

Snape grimaced internally – the subject of blood purity was one he'd rather have avoided. He'd have to discuss with Arthur what topics were appropriate when in the company of certain people before he drew unwanted attention.

"Yes," Draco said turning to Evans. A slight sneer was taking his face now. "Are yours?"

"Neither."

The boy's body promptly snapped away from him so quickly that Arthur had first thought he'd fallen over. Blinking, Arthur could _feel_ the utter disgusted sneer cast his way as the boy brought a hand up as if to ward him away. "You will not speak to me, is that understood _Mudblood?_ " Draco snapped, looking Arthur up and down once more as he finally noticed his Muggle clothing peaking out from the robes, and he made a face like he was smelling something foul. Severus opened his mouth to intervene as Arthur's jaw clenched, only to feel the room harden.

"Young man, I do not believe we've been introduced properly." Arthur ground out, his tone demanding attention as his hand snapped up to grab the boy's arm, pulling him close.

Without moving another muscle Arthur seemingly transformed where he stood, suddenly seemingly much taller to the child that froze in place, his presence like a man looking down his nose at a lowly surf throwing a tantrum when they should be seen and not heard. Draco sputtered, caught off guard as blue eyes pierced his, looking down from a high place as his magic tried to strangle the insolent little curd where he was stood.

"I'm Arthur Evans. And you need to learn manners." he glared, "Now would be the appropriate time."

Severus, unfortunately for Mr. Malfoy, wasn't fast enough.

* * *

By late afternoon all the money had gone, replaced instead by a few dozen heavy packages and a cage holding the crankiest looking owl in existance. After walking out of the final shop, Snape paused in place to rub the bridge of his nose and grimaced so hard Arthur seriously worried for his health. He watched as the professor stared at him like he was seconds away from ending the boy– before waving him back towards the Diagon Alley entrance.

"I see now," Snape cut sharply as he rubbed the skin under his bruised eye, trying desperately to strive off the impeding migraine as his lip curling into nothing but pure contempt, "That the cloth does not fall far from the tree."

Arthur just shrugged as they left the alley, shifting his bag.

"I didn't hit him in the _face_." Arthur seemed appalled at the very idea, "The side of the ribs- He'll be feeling that for at least a week."

Snape just rubbed his temples harder.


	3. A Child, Oh Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hateful bird, randomly strange people, a boy with a scar, and a train that runs of steam and magic? Arthur's surrounded by magical children on their way towards a magical boarding school to learn magical things- which is apparently his life now. Yes, this was weird and overwhelming and- did that ghost just bow to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Due to a significant medical condition that also effects my brain, which pertains mostly to my ability to comprehend memories and how I interpret them, I may accidentally recite works I have read at anytime in the past, even years prior that I have not seen since. I do not recite other works on purpose nor with malicious intent and if in the future it reoccurs, I sincerely apologized to any author I do this to. I will never copy anyone's hard work purposely and, if such things are noticed please tell me immediately. I will try my best to fix what I can and contact the needed parties to apologies as soon as possible.*
> 
> Alright, everyone! Hi! This is just another note to make it clear on one little itty bitty issue.
> 
> No, Merlin is not going to show up for a long WHILE yet. And I mean it. The tags and summary are really really, really true. Merlin isn't here. He's not hiding, he not pretending to be a student, or a teacher, or a cat or bird, he's not in the background moaning and whining about protecting his little boy from the common cold while ducking behind some curtains- he isn't there. Arthur is at Hogwarts alone and has to deal with everything without his sorcerer, at least for now. Not forever, no no I didn't forget Merlin, I have a plan. Promise.

* * *

At the beginning Arthur thought that he might have loathed Merlin. What he did or didn't do back then, and now that he knew, also things he'd never planned to tell him at all.

Merlin was a startling mess in Arthur's memories; a disappointing servant he was stuck with, that, on his better days made him want to throw things at his head a few times every hour. He couldn't follow any orders without the threat of the stocks. He was _abhorrent._ To prince Arthur Merlin was a peasant who couldn't act accordingly without the fear of pain or a grizzly death, and to the King Arthur he was a confined, a somewhat begrudged companion who was like no one else. He could remember how simply aggressively _perplexing_ Merlin made him when he didn't make sense.

And least of all, he remembered those ugly neckerchiefs _._ He'd never gotten around to burning them in the end, which was a shame.

But now Arthur could forgive the slogging idiot to a reasonable extant, because magic was clearly insane. He couldn't figure it out. Witchcraft and Wizardry was impossible, and not by the lack of trying. It was like an ache, a nonsensical headache that wouldn't go away because magic was apparently created by drunken Gods who didn't know what they were doing either. He'd already thrown his non-magical school books into the trash, how could he keep them when they were clearly wrong, and after weeks of studying stacks of books that changed every past notion in every subject, he was still no closer to understanding even the basics.

And to make matters worse he was currently losing to a bird.

 _"O_ _w!_ " Arthur hissed as he jerked his hand back, putting his index finger in his mouth to suck the cut, the skin ripped by the bird's beak. The owl was still snapping and screeching as Arthur again tried to get the note to its foot, the cage on the floor jerking about as it made another swipe at his knuckles.

"Here, you like these right?" Reaching back, he scowled as he pulled out a plump mouse from the container, dangling it in front with one last hope.

He swung it side to side as the thing looked ridiculous, puffing out like a fluffed up toy. But more annoyingly it covered its feet as it somehow thought that, because Arthur can't _see_ the skin to tie the string onto, he would give up. Which wasn't happening.

"Just take the snack and deliver it." Arthur glared, meeting enraged orange eyes, "I _know_ it doesn't have an address, but have at it, will you?"

The bird just shuffled, claws noisily scrapping against its perch before it turned and looked away and he groaned, rubbing his face. He couldn't believe this thing, he was arguing with a bird. A bird! What had his life come to?

"It's not a trick!" Arthur hisses in a breath and jerks away, glaring at his soon to become owl-turned-cat snack. "You're magic, he's magic, just fly around until something happens! If anything can find that idiot it would be you." He was not begging, Arthur Evans didn't beg.

The owl glared- dear god, was it going to attack?- and he held the mouse further back, before it creepily puffed out its chin and chattered, giving Arthur the clear impression that it was calling him every fowl name in history.

He was losing to an owl.

Arthur bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from growling, running his thumb across Merlin's name. The slanted letters were scrawled across the letter in slightly shaky handwriting, and in his haste to put the message down on paper it was only a few sentences long. Arthur opened and shut his mouth, uselessly as he wrung his free hand in the empty air as he tried to think. He didn't like to admit how much more to this than there was- but he was desperate, despairingly so. In front of anyone who wouldn't notice at first glance he could shrug it off, pretending it just lingering stress from studying, but now that even his bird wasn't following orders?

The last three attempts had been dead ends. There weren't any signs that those with magic could be naturally immortal, or anything on what he himself was experiencing and not surprisingly, flipping through a phone book looking for a 'two thousand-give-or-take year old Merlin' was useless too. It was the night before he left, literally hours away and he couldn't stand the thought of being thrown into this orchestrated situation for the next seven years, surrounded by wizards and witches and magic without _his_ sorcerer. He knew, if he continued to press his bird he was sure it would just fly off somewhere and never come back. Even Arthur could admit it wasn't fair to send a mail carrier around the world looking for a man that died a long time ago.

But he needed to look. Yes it was petty, flamboyantly childish behavior he would have shrieked at as an adult, and never _ever_ would he admit it, but this would be a disaster. If he wasn't careful it wasn't a far cry to pretend he was losing his bloody mind.

No wait, yes he was _.  
_

Arthur had enough self control, of holding his tongue or finding the right thing to say, keeping his features happy or blank in school or whatever was needed in the presence of a court in the past or a Lord so-and-so before, and every other person who isn't Merlin, but at this very moment he didn't stop the sheer pleading look he gave his animal.

"Look just- bloody hell _please_?" Arthur licks his lips, grabbing a textbook as he shoves the parchment closer. "Just try? Look around a bit, just a bit! And if you don't find anything then that's it." He grumbled as he rubbed his eyes, the book heavy in his lap and the dull ache between his temples indicated that it was probably past time he went to sleep, but he continued to hold out the note, waiting.

For a second the bird watched him incredulously, clearly blinking up at him in ridicule then, without another snap it stepped forward to grab the mouse and hold out a foot.

He kept his eyes intent on the beast, and as he caught the thing's eyes the owl hoped forward out of the cage. Arthur kept outwardly calm, playing the role of the perfect prince so he would not spook it into biting again, and as it gobbled down the meal he quickly tied the note to its leg before it changed its mind. He got up, making his way over to the window and hurriedly opened it as the bird gave him one last ridiculously hostile glance, before rushing out the room, the hurried flapping and sound of feathers sharp as it vanished into the night.

There was a tense moment before he sighed, easing his way down on the nearest chair and picked up his book. Rubbing away the pain behind his eyelids with steady fingers, he flipped open a page, carelessly draping his cloak over his legs as he tightens his grip on the spine, feeling the fine leather beneath the skin as he resumes his unhurried journey through the information. The fireplace-lit room fell back into silence as he tried to finish up his last minute study session.

"Why do you have an owl?"

Arthur jerked up in surprise at the voice behind him, flinging away the seventh year Transfiguration book without thought and knocked it into the table beside him. It all went over with a crash and, as Arthur looked at it the table, and the glass of tea, and the book, and the fire that was only barely lit all froze as though time had stopped. Arthur stared as the shining drops of Earl Grey hung like bright beads in the light before he swore, loudly.

He thought about getting up to run as he made out the person behind his chair, but his legs ached from sitting on the floor for so long, and before he'd even really decided, everything started again. There was a clatter as the tea cleaned itself up, tipping back into the cup before both sat back down on a table that spun upright onto its legs, the book jumping back into his hands in reverse.

What? When was he able to-

 _How did he_ _do that!?_

Arthur sputtered as he looked about, his face paling dramatically as he slowly turned in his chair, looking up at his father in fear. Uther stared from behind the settee by the door, looking at the piles of books and scribbled on parchment thrown on the floor around them, to the empty cage near his feet and the cloak of Camelot on Arthur's lap, before his gaze settled back on his son's terrified face.

"I-" Arthur all but chocked on his tongue, "Well, I didn't, I didn't do _that_ on purpose." he finally managed to murmur after seconds of tense staring.

"You do magic by accident?" His father asked the question slowly, the measured tone more observant than accusing as he leaned back and Arthur startled more, clenching his book with white knuckles as his father picked up a book on Deviation by his feet.

"Er- well, yes." Arthur murmured, swallowing heavily as his father put that book down to grab another, flipping through it with a blank face. "I believe so?" 

Arthur tried to keep his voice steady as he shifted in place. It was still as much a mystery to him at this point, on how he had magic or how it worked at this point. It was overwhelming how little he knew. Uther skimmed through the pages before looking around, there were quills and ink bottles on the table, bits of potion ingredients used for tests on the floor and notebooks spread about. Apart from that, it was nevertheless a simple planning and studying room.

Arthur, for the last few weeks had been in here, studying for the upcoming year like a man desperate for battle plans in war. He soaked in everything he could, avoiding the parts of the house where his father was as he went to bed early and tiptoed quietly around the house. Here he would shuffle to his daily quiet corner to open his bag and just read for most of the day, trying to be noticed as little as possible. The two of them had barely spoken a word to each other in weeks- only mere pleasantries while passing by really, and September first hadn't come fast enough. Now that it was the night before he left for school, his nerves were shot.

And of course, his father had to see him perform his first real bout of accidental magic.

Uther flipped through a few more pages as Arthur stayed silent, anxious in seeing the man so close without realizing he'd even walked into the room. Uther shifted aside a few pages to examine what Arthur had been doing all this time, the free handed notes scrawled across the side of pages, making notes of important points. Most of it didn't make sense to him, but it was clever—Arthur's note taking— was better than someone his age should be, and Uther raised a brow as he shot his son another look. It was something Arthur had worked up long ago, a lifetime ago and it was a similar system to dealing with the conflicting yearly work, similar with what he did with managing past tax proxies after ascending to the throne.

"The owl that just flew off, Arthur?" he cut off Arthur observations as he went back to his original thought.

"R-right," Arthur sputters. "The owl- It's for mail, while I'm at school, because- " he trailed off, shifting his feet across the carpet.

Uther waited. And waited. "Yes?" he prompted.

"They don't have phones or postage," Arthur finally manages as Uther frowned. "I need an owl for it."

There was a long pause, and Uther looked between the empty cage and the book again.

"I do have to point out, these are magical birds that are perfectly capable of delivering anything, anywhere before you insist." Arthur said rather defensively. "I'm sure he could travel across the entire channel in a night."

Except it would: ridiculous as it seemed, the bird had already done a delivery for him earlier this week, picking up a order from China for a rare potion ingredient and returned in _two days._ Apparently, anything could happen with magic- as long as the bird was in a good mood.

"Very well," Uther said. "You had better keep it after all."

Arthur sat up straight. The hilt of his sword clinking against his leg from where it poked out of his bag by his feet, the cool metal against his skin like a comfort as he watched his father in a bit of astonishment. His room was just across the hall, yes, but Arthur hadn't at all expected him to visit. Hell, he was surprised they were even talking civilly, trying to be with him before he had to leave for Hogwarts was terrifyingly shocking, but for him to let alone _ask questions_. Arthur clenched his jaw in order to hide his expression, unsure of what this development meant.

Uther stared at him, for long enough that Arthur started to wonder if it was about time he made plans to seek asylum in another country, when Uther said almost warily, "Do you need a ride to the station tomorrow morning?"

What?

Arthur froze, blinking up at his father who clearly wasn't asking for the facile answer, raising an expectant brow as his son gaped.

"I, yes sir." Arthur stuttered. "I thought I'd be taking the bus?" He was getting on extremely well not thinking about what he would have to do tomorrow, and he had no desire to start now.

Uther said, "I see," with a peculiar expression on his face, a little as though he'd eaten something unpleasant, and after a moment he said, "We'll leave first thing in the morning. When does the train depart?"

"Er-" Arthur rubbed his eyes as he trailed off, blinking repeatedly as he bide himself some time to think, looking around in absolute confusion. "It's at ten."

Arthur thought about saying something else- his mouth opening and closing before he simply turned back to the fire, not pressing his luck as his father nodded and, after a few more moments of inspecting another of his books, left the room without another word.

The orange light filtered through the silent room as Arthur gulped, a cold chill running down his back as the fire cast shadows on his cloak.

He slouched in his seat as he flung his book to the side, heaving a sigh as he rubbed his sleep deprived eyes.

It was simple- Arthur was not ready. Not for the upcoming year, not for tomorrow even. Not with this entire blatant identity crisis fiasco; with how his body felt too small, his hands not his own at times, or when he noticed his voice was too high when he involuntary barked off an order, or when his gait went unbalanced as he tried to compensate for legs that were supposed to be longer. He was befuddled, becoming lost as more dream filled nights went, and Arthur couldn't fathom how he could be anywhere close to being prepared for this with magic surrounding him. Everything in Arthur's head was a mess. A conundrum of splintering thoughts and confusing contradictions on how the world should work, and how apparently it actually was. He was more Arthur Pendragon with each passing day; the once King of Camelot, just as much as he was Evans, a normal school boy from Surrey who liked football.

If everything kept going the way it was, he was going to make an utter fool of himself, or better yet, he'd end up dead again. And if someone as closed minded as Uther Evans could see right through it and tell how different he was- there would be no hiding it anymore from them.

* * *

Kings Cross was incredibly busy that morning as Arthur scowled, glancing up at the enormous clock on the wall as the time read ten til.

Stepped forward he watched as families and strangers weaved through the steam filled terminals, trying to find their way, people yelling across the halls, grumbling, large carts being pushed and the mechanical noises flooded out the rest, and he shifted the empty bird cage under his arm into a more comfortable position as he walked. He never used the subway before, his father using the state car because everything else was far too common- but still, the crowds were exciting. He turned back before taking a deep breath as he pulling out his ticket. His father had made it as far as the entrance before turning up his nose and telling their driver to let him out to walk, not that he had expected him to follow his son into this world.

As he reached the platform, Platform nine-and-three-quarters, he glanced up at the pillar and, again, he felt it before he saw it.

There was a tug, a pull that buzzed across his skin and led him toward the pillar of bricks. It was emanating not from the stone itself, but from the entire section of wall- like a opening of space, or a hole. Arthur staggered to a stiffly stop in the hallway, his spine ramrod straight as he noted the off-colored tint to the shadows, like they were placed there as an afterthought.

He grimaced as he shifted his belonging. Right, well, it wasn't the strangest thing he'd ever done and he didn't have any misgivings about walking straight into a brick wall, not after the entire Diagon Ally debacle.

He looked around and, hoping that no one saw him, tired to be as casual as possible as he jogged right through it, squeezing his eyes shut as he went through.

Holding his breath, or a second he walked in nothing, everything black and warped until the world returned and the previous station vanished, replaced instead by a older looking station house. Arthur shifted his eyes around, stumbling into another group that was standing too closely to the entrance. There was a single large red steam engine Express sitting ideally, the platform before him packed with students of varying age, some already clad in the school's black robes like him, while others said goodbye to parents in their own colored cloaks or normal non-magical clothing.

The bright red train caught everyone's attentions with a loud high pitched whistle, some people jumping or squawking in surprise, and there was a rush forward, him included, as everyone made their way for departure.

Arthur hurried towards the back with a grunt, before stopping- noticing a boy near the ending of the platform line.

He looked to be around Arthur's age, and by the way he was tugging desperately on his trunk he was very stuck. Arthur watched before cringing while he struggled, the extremely packed suitcase loaded to the point of almost springing open and the sniggering laughter of students passing almost had the poor boy in tears. The boy fixed the hat on his head as Arthur walked closer, shifted his own bag as he continued to fail to get on the train.

Arthur had decided to use his larger on the inside school bag the goblins had enchanted instead of multiple trunks, it was less of a hassle as everything he needed stayed safely on his back and kept there with an enchanted lock. Arthur ran a hand through his hair, swatting the harsher thoughts away before halfheartedly walking over.

"Hey?" Arthur looked down grudgingly as he shifted his pack, "Need help?"

The boy dropped the truck with a jump, frowning at Arthur's offered hand as he spun around to meet him. He cringed as the boy raised his head, the clear trouble believing anyone was assisting him clear as day, and to be fair, Arthur was having trouble believing it too.  This boy- Arthur had to all but bite his own tongue off so not to react- looked familiar, like the gods were getting needlessly vengeful on him by putting this boy in his path. He was dressed in the same wizardry clothing as other students, with his black cloak and tailored school clothing, his pointed hat making his ears stand out and look bigger than they most likely were. His blue eyes were almost scared as Arthur looked him up and down, and he looked up at Arthur wearily, even as he lifted up the boy's luggage with just one arm.

He must have muttered some kind of order to follow because the boy quickly shuffling in afterwards, following closely behind. A few upper years pushed their way passed as they made their way the down the corridor, before finding an empty space to sit in the middle of the train. They quietly got comfortable as the put their things on the racks, and a bit later the train lurched forward, both boys watching out the window as they started their journey in silence. They passed the mountains quietly before the boy shifted in his seat, nervously glancing up at him.

"I-I'm Neville. Nev-Neville Longbottom." The words were out before the kid seemed to realize it, stumbling over his own tongue as he offered his hand for shaking even as he tried to sink into himself.

"The name's Arthur Evans." He nodded as he gave the boy's hand a good solid shake. "Nice to meet you, and it was nothing." leaning back and twisting his arms to get more comfortable, Arthur watched in begrudging amusement as he cut him off, Longbottom's mouth flapping uselessly.

On either side of their door there was snorted laughter, and both first years jumped, startled as they didn't notice the sudden presence next to them as they jerked to look. Two identical upperclassman stood leaning against the door frame chuckling, looking from Neville to him and Arthur. Both had flaming orange hair and identical wide grins, and as they poked their heads further in as the rest of the crowd moved up the train, they seemed to pick Arthur apart, causing Arthur to drag his gaze between them with a slight sneer.

"Nice thing you did back there, thought you might be a snake at first." He tilts his head as he examined Arthur. "He _looks_ like he'd fit right in. Hmm, the Firstie's not what he seems, is he Forge?" The one on the right asked his mirror image, his words intertwined with laughter.

"Seems that way George." The other one- George?- hummed as he crossed his arms, "Could be a fluke? Maybe a sly one?"

"Could be?" George, Forge, whatever his name was nods as Arthur raised a brow. "He's got the coat tales like one."

"Oh, most definitely."

"The what?" Arthur asked dispiritedly, shoving his hands into his cloak pockets with a tight-lipped frown. "Who the hell are you?"

"Oh, pleading innocent are we? What do you reckon, Fred?" one asked the other, who was now calling his brother by another name. Arthur groaned, and they kept going as though they hadn't just heard Arthur's dismissal at all.

"I suppose so, if you look hard enough you can see some differences," his brother, Fred answered dispassionately. "Small ones, mind you. That's probably a good thing, wouldn't want those traits. A bit too stung up by the heels, that lot."

Arthur folded his arms with a sneer, narrowing his eyes ever-so-slightly. "No no, please do continue. It's not like I'm sitting right in front of you or anything. Why not invite all of us into this." That seemed to snap the twins out of it, Fred opening his mouth, and then closed it before turning to share an expression with his brother. The twins were examining him as though he were some sort of complex puzzle as he huffed.

"Oh, he's most definitely got some sort of _royal breeding_." George snorted, "Just look at that signature look."

"I am not!" Arthur protested, his heart suddenly in his throat as he held back, refusing to motion towards his bag where the crest of Camelot lay, but Fred simply held up a hand and smiled. Arthur had obviously lost his mind as he wrung his hands together, sputtering nonsense as he attempted to get them to shut up with his glare alone, which, unfortunately didn't work. Neville squeaked across from him as the boys continued to get under Arthur's skin, and might have said every word for the good it did to drive him nutters.

"Don't worry little firstie, your secret of being nice to the common folk is safe with us." Fred made the motion of zipping his lips before throwing away the key, and George laughed with eyes full of matching fire.

"Look, can't you just go find your own compartment. Perhaps on the other end of the train?" Arthur snapped, growling low as he put his bag on his lap. He was ready to chuck one of the heavier items inside at their heads as they held up a steady hand- only to barely bite back a hysterical shriek as both boys mockingly bowed back to him, before disappearing back into the walkway as they shut the door with a loud snap.

He was going to _kill_ those two.

"I- I've heard of them," Neville interrupted Arthur's current activity of glaring holes into empty space, imagining every lovely way of disposing of those curds, "they're the, the Weasly twins. They- they're kind of like, famous?" He glanced at Arthur and nervously shrugged, leaning forward as though he was parting some secret information to the other boy. "They won't really bother us. Um, I- I don't think so?"

Arthur on the other hand frowned deeper, tightening his hold on his bag as he scowled. and Neville seemed to know what he was thinking because he muttered in an undertone, "They do tricks."

Arthur looked over, raising an eyebrow, "Tricks? Is that a thing with wizards?"

Neville paused, looking at Arthur in confusion. "Are- are you, I thought-" he stuttered as Arthur huffed, folding his arms again as he slouched in his seat. " You're a- a Muggleborn?"

Arthur wasn't sure what he meant by that, but he could remember Professor Snape saying something similar the month prior, so he didn't argue as he shrugged. Instead he looked up with a grimace, "I believe that's what you call me," he told Neville, "My parents are normal." Neville frowned utterly confused and Arthur cringed, quickly rephrasing it.

"Non-magical, I mean."

Neville slowly nodded, "Oh." he whispered as he relaxed, although Arthur could see that he was still caught up on something. "I just thought, that you-" he trailed off awkwardly.

"That I was a Pureblood? I've heard of it," Arthur glanced toward Neville for conformation, and Longbottom slowly nodded. "What is that?" The other boy in the shop, Malfoy had said something else. Mudblood, wasn't is? And if he supposedly _looked_ like royalty, he'd could take a gander at the apparent _purity_ of the other word. But, what the bloody hell did that mean for himself?

Neville paused, forcibly blinking back to the point as he somewhat drilled him, which made Arthur mildly snort as the young boy looked him up and down.

"You just- I- I mean," He shrugged helplessly, waving a hand through the air in slight exasperation as he was unable to figure out the answer either. He looked between Arthur's well groomed appearance, his pale almost silver hair swept to the side while he held a perfect posture, and as he raised a steady, minute brow Neville could only shrug. "You have an- air about you?"

Arthur nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Ah, well, he could go with that. Perhaps being a King once left a visible impression on him, it would make understanding how people seemed to pick him out of a crowd so easily simpler to understand.

"Trust me," Arthur said, grinning in spite of himself. "I'm not. I didn't even know I was a wizard until I got my letter." Neville nodded, copying Arthur as they got comfortable in the compartment, they sat in a nice silence again as the other boy pulled out a treat from him pocket, offering Arthur one before he politely declined. 

He just wanted to get this over with, the quicker they reached the school, the less stress it would be now. They almost fell into a comfortable rhythm of ignoring the other before the door burst open.

It was the girl from the wand shop, her hair just as puffy and a mess as Arthur remembered, and as she went to say something she spotted him and nearly stopped. The words stuck on the tip of her tongue as she stared.

"Hello." he inclined his head, waving politely and Hermione Granger was seemingly overwhelmed, the blush creeping up her face as it went bright red, and her eyes blinked owlishly as she was clearly uncomfortable. Neville gave her a half wave as she caught herself, and she moved forward into their room with her chin raised high.

"Excuse me! I don't know if you remember me but can I sit here? The other compartments are really busy, and everyone's too busy looking for the boy-who-lived." She huffed, her trunk pulled closed to her side as she stood as tall as she could, her eyebrows drawn together in deep thought.

Arthur moved his bag over with a shrug, giving her a place to sit next to him as he patting the seat, and Neville giver her a nervous smile as she took a step forward into the room.

But as she took a step closer she suddenly tripped over his feet, stumbling over Neville's truck with a loud yelp as she was flung forward. Arthur's arm shot out to steady her, jerking up as Neville's panicked shrills.

"Trevor!" Neville lunged for the green blur that leaped out of his coat pocket and onto the floor, croaking twice as Hermione barely managed not to step on it.

Hermione squeaks as the toad jumps between her feet as she stumbles forward, spinning in place and hoping on one foot, barely missing the thing. "Oh- Oh, I'm terribly sorry!"

His pet continued to bounce about, and to make matters worse the whole cabin lurched slightly as the train took a slight corner, making Neville miss the amphibian again as it passed into the hallway. Arthur again had to steady both children so they didn't tumble over.

"It's alright!" Arthur hissed, Hermione slapping a hand over her mouth as Neville lost sight of his toad, and with a groan Arthur looked between the now two freaked out students as they turned back. He quickly waved a hand as Neville took a sharp breath and he grunted, rubbing his face with a groan as one of them- maybe both started sniffling miserably.

"Ugh, come on." even though Arthur knew he had to be on his best behavior, it was rather hard not to shriek when they turned those pleading, sad eyes at him. "Here now," He held up a tantalizing hand, internally groaning as the boy made frantic little hand movements as he continued to look at the floor, "It's fine Neville. It couldn't have gone far- no harm done."

He looked between the two of them, who shuffled in their place as he beckoned them forward.

"Let's-" He stumbled over the words as someone's lower lip started trembling, "Let's go find your frog Neville." Arthur used his most gentle, comforting voice, not at all slightly panicked as he picked up his bag and slung it onto his shoulder, making his way towards the door. Which, infuriatingly, made them both stop sniffling and look up at him with wide _hopeful_ eyes this time. Dear gods, he was in a school full of magical children with baby eyes.

" _Toad_." Neville said miserably and Hermione awkwardly patted him on the back, her face just as miserable.

"Right, toad. Let's find a toad," Arthur smiled through his clenched teeth. "Just please for my sanity, no crying."

* * *

They looked through every inch of the hallway to find that bloody, god forsaken toad, to no luck. They picked up bags and trunks, ducking by people's feet and opened random small cupboards on the wall. They searched the whole train carriageway, and Arthur really hoped the thing didn't jump out of a window, for Neville's sake as much as his own. He was sure if they didn't find it, well, the bundle of nerves that was Mr. Longbottom was going to bubble back over into tears. Granger took the initiative to ask around as the two boys kept their noses to the floor, but it seemed the last of the good news of the day was over, because when returned to their compartment empty handed, a pair of five or so upperclassman had taken their spot, throwing their bags into the hallway for them to grab, promptly shutting the door and locking it in their faces.

Lovely children. Wonderful upbringing, that bunch.

So when the baby face boy finally blubbered over in the middle of the hallway, tearing up with a little whimper, Arthur had been surprisingly unable to walk off and call it a day like he most dearly wanted to, not that he couldn't, he could. Really. He was not somehow attached to someone he just met- no matter how blue eyed, big eared said person was- but, he could also understand why something as simple as a pet could be important to the boy. He was willing to bet that amphibian had been his only friend for a while, the kid looked terrified of his own shadow, after all.

Arthur rubbed at his eyes with a hiss, seconds away from cursing loudly. "He might have gotten in another compartment," he suggested with sigh, watching as the girl immediately started opening the doors at the suggestion like a command, asking the first people she saw. "It's an inclosed space. It'll show up."

"Oh _no_." Neville started wringing his hands as he looked around in panic. "What if someone stepped—"

"Neville," Hermione interrupted firmly, pointed her chin upwards with a sniff as she closed the door. "Evans is right, it'll turn up. This isn't the first time you've lost your pet, is it?"

Neville shook his head, whipping his cheeks. "Well- well, no. But-"

 _"Neville."_ she snapped as she continued to ask around, sometimes getting polite answers in return, sometimes not so much. Arthur opened another door to find two boys quietly eating candy, one nibbling on colored beans while he stuck his head in.

"Sorry," he was clearly not sorry, "Have either of you seen a toad?" The dark haired boy to his right startled as Arthur raised a brow, his large framed glasses slightly skewed as he stared up with wide eyes up, and the red head with a smudge of dirt on his nose shrugged and continued to eat.

"We're looking for it for Neville here." He jerked a thumb back as Neville stood behind him, worrying his lip between his teeth.

"Sorry mate." He shoved something into his mouth as the other boy shook his head, "Haven't seen a frog." Arthur frowned, tucking his bag more comfortably onto his shoulder as he spotted the rat that was lying in the boy's lap, the fat thing looked more dead than alive. Arthur didn't say anything, his face pinching in disgust as Hermione came up beside them, glancing into the room with a huff.

"I lost him!" Arthur shook his head as Neville cried out in frustration, "He keeps getting away from me."

"I'm really sorry for spooking him earlier, Neville. He'll turn up," Hermione shifted nervously before she spotted the wand in the red heads hand, then she all but jumped into their room. Before anyone else could get another word in she perked up, looking impatiently at the red headed boy, "Oh, are you doing magic? I didn't know first years could. Let's see it, then," she sat down on the bench, staring at the wand as Arthur pulled the other boy in.

They sat down in the free spots before Neville could bolt again, and Arthur shrugged off the frantic worry he shot the door as they made themselves comfortable. Like Granger said, the toad would show up eventually, the boy needed to relax before he went grey.

"Er- all right," The red headed boy looked between the four of them before pointing his wand at his pet, waving the wood dramatically as he recited the poem, "Sunshine daises, butter mellow, turn this big fat rat yellow!"

Nothing happened, and Arthur snorted into his coat sleeve as the boy's ears burned to match his hair.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" Hermione leaned back in aghast disgust, "It doesn't sound like one." The boy muttered something under his breath as Arthur waved an absentminded hand, before patting a nervous Neville's shoulder.

"My brother gave it to me," He grumbled, clearly upset as he picked up the rat and glared at its unchanged skin.

"He must be trying to get a raise out of you." The boy sitting on the other side of Arthur nodded, eating another bean as he looked over at Hermione, who rolled her eyes.

"Well, that wasn't very nice of him. Trying to make his brother look foolish is just mean," Hermione fumed and she was off, talking over everyone as he and Neville leaned back, watching the two newest boys acquainted with the girl's ability to talk without that pesky unneeded thing called breathing. The boy's eyes went wide as she went on and on, the red head seemingly choking on another piece of candy as she predictably finished her speech with- "My name's Hermione Granger, by the way. And you are?"

"Ronald Weasly." he answered as he took another large bite of chocolate, his cheeks bulging and she leaned back. "Everybody just calls me Ron, though."

"Pleasure _."_   Hermione frowned in disgust as he kept eating, before looking at the other boy.

"Harry Potter." He gave the three of them a small smile as he adjusted his spectacles.

"Wait- Weasly?" Arthur asked at the same time Hermione gasped, all but pointing at Potter's forehead, "As in the Weasly twins?" Ron nodded, nervously shifting at his piercing gaze and his eyes flickered over to Harry, and then to Neville as Hermione bounced in her seat.

"The Harry Potter?" Neville whispered next to him in awe.

Potter- that sounded familiar? He'd read that name somewhere hadn't he?

"Are you really?" Hermione squealed, "I know all about you, of course! I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark A_ _rts_ and _Great_ _Wizardly Events of the Twentieth Century!_ I also read _The Adventures of Harry Potter_ ," Harry looked almost queasy as he brushed his bangs forward to cover a lighting-bolt like scar, and Hermione blinked. "Goodness, didn't you know? I'd found everything out I could if it was me, all of the things you've done. Did you really fight off a troll when you were still a toddler? That's very-"

Oh, _that_ Harry Potter. This was the boy that was required reading for seventh year Defense Against Dark Arts, not much to look at was he?

"Hermione," Arthur interrupted, dryly shooing off her rant with a flick of his wrist, "Clearly he hasn't heard." He looked at him as she huffed rudely, and the boy was slightly hunched over in his seat. "It must not be the right information then."

Compared to the sung praises they made him out to be, he looked rather unremarkable. Nowhere close to the superstar depicted. So, when he nudged his shoulder against Harry's he wasn't surprised the boy gave him a weary smile in return, happy that he had put an end to the onslaught before it could begin. Arthur inclined his head in greeting, narrowing his eye theatrically as Hermione opened her mouth, ready to go on another spiel that no one wanted.

"Well of course he did! I found out everything I could, I read extensively on the subject, clearly he should have done the same." The little witch snapped as she crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing hotly at Harry, and Arthur couldn't help himself but to snort in amusement. Well, she didn't seem to be missing any bit of self confidence, and instead of raising to the bait and snapping back, he eyed Harry in supposedly warily awe.

“ _The_ boy-who-lived?" He hummed, "Really? Not to be a barer of bad news Miss Granger but most likely if that were true, wouldn't he be someone who would be privy to that sort of information?”

She looked like someone just spit in her face as it twisted in outrage, "I read it! It was in the books!" She glared openly now, turning up her nose in challenge as she hotly proclaimed, "Just read it in chapter thirty, section five of our history books. How on earth could anyone miss it, I mean it's _right there._ "

"I see," He trailed off, finding no way for this to be handled delicately as he grabbed his pack with a shrug, opening it as she sputtered more. Sometimes the only way to stop a fight before it could happen was hard facts, and though he didn't particularly want to be mean to the young girl, he was starting to see a trend here. Shifting the contents to look for the specific item as she went to tell him more, he held up a hand to cut her off as he pulled something out of his bag.

"No, don't bother- I've got the book right here." he added, dropping a large seventh year textbook onto his lap as she glared at him; only to stop as she saw the never before seen textbook. It looked nothing like a first years, the thick leather bound book a later edition, with his own notes poking out of the pages.

"What- are- those?" Hermione punctuated each word through her clenched teeth, her eyes darting around in confusion as he flipped through a few pages, humming before thumbing across subjects she'd never seen.

"My history book." He stated blandly, "I have two of them, unfortunately, more information this way you see. Just give me a moment." The book was far larger than any of their first year books, and Harry frowned in confusion as Arthur then pulled another book out that was _far_ larger still, for his bag and for children their size.

Arthur didn't think she hadn't even noticed as none of the boys seemed bothered and she shot to her feet, huffing like a raging bull as she spun to the door, leaving Neville and him behind as she snapped the door closed behind her. Arthur grunted, leaning back as he flipped through the latter pages before schooling away a grimace. That could have went better, she really needed to tone that down somewhat, or she would get herself in sorts of trouble- and not many people would try to help her calmly with such an attitude.

"I'm Arthur Evans," Arthur said after a moment as the rest of them look around awkwardly and Harry, thoroughly embarrassed, mumbled under his breath as he watched Arthur page through the chapters looking for specific information. Arthur shrugged as Ron's eyebrows shot up into his hair line, making a rather comical noise as he waved a hand nonchalantly.

"That's a big book mate." Ron stared in horrified wonder, leaning back as if the book would jump up at hit him or something, and Arthur nodded sadly.

"I know," He sighed remorsefully, before looking over at Harry, "Next time someone does that," He inclined his head toward the door where Granger had fled, “Just go with it. Might help stop anyone else from poking about.”

“But, but I didn't-”

“It’ll pay off later." Harry wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but he didn’t argue further as Arthur gave him a sharp look.

"Did you- did you really do all that stuff?" Neville finally spoke, stuttering hopeless, "I mean, with the troll? Or- or wrestling that dragon in Albania?"

"A what?" Harry jumped, aghast before looking at Ron with a horrified glance, and Arthur chocked on his own tongue. "Dragons are real?" Harry squeaked.

Dragons still existed?

All the boys looked at each other in horror before Arthur shook off that surprise, looking back down at his book. He trailed a finger down the page until he found the right passage- ah here it was, Lord Harry Potter's name bolder than the rest.

The information on the kid was dedicated to an entire three pages, the events of October thirty first, ninety eighty one were noted with cliff notes and mostly hearsay, third party accounts taking up most of it until even the writers had to concede the fact that most likely it wasn't all true- a disclaimer highlighted at the end. Killing the so called most powerful Dark Lord of their century during the civil uprising of blood supremacists, at only twelve months old Harry Potter was a world renown hero, the last living heir to a magical empire and, unfortunately, a living testament to the glories of living as a heroic romantic fairytale.

Clearly not much of a powerful dark Lord, if a babe in diapers could off him.

"Not everything written down about famous people are true," Arthur trailed off. And didn't he know it, just look up him, pulling his sword from stone? Or Merlin with a long white beard- he'd look ridiculous. Arthur would order him to shave it off or spend a week in the racks.

"Well, true or not, whatever house I'm in, I hope that girl's not in it." said Ron, holding out his box of candy as he put his wand away, "Bean?"

Neville quickly took one as Arthur shrugged, popping one into his mouth with a thanks, only to make a face and spit it right back into his hand, wiping his tongue on the back of his sleeve. Why would anyone think candy that tastes like fish would be a good idea? His face was probably very comical, going by how Harry snickered under his breath as he continued to scrap his tongue with his teeth.

How _disgusting_.

Everyone suddenly jerked as the door exploded open with a a loud bang, the wood promptly slamming to the side as Arthur mentally kicked himself for dropping his guard, his hand immediately on his wand. He grabbed the handle on reflex like a sword, sitting up straight with a scowl, until he saw who was standing a few feet away.

Three boys simpered in, and Arthur immediately recognized the boy from the robe shop. He was standing in front, the pale kid having two bulky and rather simpleton looking boys flanking his back as they entered the compartment, like they owned the place already. A flicker of recognition flashed over the blonds face as he scoffed, tilting his head high as he sent Arthur a irate glare, and next to him Harry's face quickly replaced with irritation once Draco Malfoy spoke- mentioning him right off the bat with a hiss as he unconsciously motioned to his ribs.

" _You._ "

Arthur raised a brow as the kid's face twisted dangerously, and Arthur noticed how Neville went white beside him as the boy pointed rudely at Arthur's face. The blond ferret sneered as he looked him up and down, and Harry and Ron glared right back as he spat. "Must be a mistake then, they're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. But there's no way he'd want anything to do with your kind."

"I see that the lesson didn't stick," Arthur drawled lazily, rolling his eyes as he matched the boy's condescending posture perfectly to a tee. He slipped his hand tighter around his wand though, a good scar would do this idiot good at this point if he did try something, "Pity."

The two brutes in the back sneered, trying to intimidate them as leaned over, peering down over their noses as Arthur just slouched against his seat, not very moved by the display. It wouldn't be proper to allow small courtly vessels to get under his skin, not so soon at least.

"Can I help you?" Harry replied in a low voice, glaring into the cretin's annoying head and Draco stopped, the bleach blonde finally realizing his mistake as he turned away from Arthur to notice Potter.

"You're Harry Potter?"

Harry shrugged at the question, and Arthur snorted and reached over to put his books away for when he needed to stand. The lesser court children threw him another disgusted filled glance and, halfheartedly Arthur leaned forward as he brought his wand out, swishing it around in apparent boredom.

"This is Crabbe and Goyle. My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Draco glared at him, before turning a bright and blistering fake smile at Potter. "I can see that you've been hanging out with the wrong sort. Some wizardly family are better than others and," he all but spat, as he caught Arthur's dignified glance in return, "those of _lesser upbringing."_

Now Ron and Neville glared opening, and Neville's hands were clenched around the cushion of the seat tightly as he took sharp breaths through his nose. Arthur put a hand on his back, careful to keep his face pointedly blank as Malfoy huffed dryly.

"You don't want to be seen making friends with those people. I can help you there." he held out his hand for Harry to shake and Arthur pursed his lips so he wouldn't frown, knowing full well what that gestured represented as Draco gave him a superior smile- and he was glad to say the least, when Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks." Harry glared and Draco went as red as possible for someone so pale.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter." He spat, "Unless you're a bit politer, you'll go the same way-"

"You lack basic social skills, don't you?" Arthur cut in, mimicking Malfoy's nastily snooty voice, "If you hang around riffraff like them? Someone forgot to teach you to think for yourself, haven't they?" he started twirling his wand in his fingers with a scoff, and if the sharp edge just happened to point directly at the idiot's throat well, it was just a happy accident. Ron coughed to hide a snicker as Neville tried to make himself as small as possible, very uncomfortable with sitting between himself and Malfoy and Arthur gave him a look in the corner of his eye.

"Quiet lowlife!" he snapped and the three boys were up to defend Arthur's honor for him- he had dealt with dignitaries as mentally deficient before, and didn't think he'd give him the satisfaction of raising to the bait. Malfoy looked at him with a bit of annoyance as Arthur schooled his features into blank uninterest, but Malfoy turned smugly to the standing boys.

"Say that again," Ron snarled.

"Oh, feeling brave are you?"

"Or maybe you shouldn't mess with someone who can fight off dragons!" Harry hissed even as he shot Arthur a glance, quickly taking his advice to heart as Malfoy's mouth snapped shut, looking quite queasy. Apparently he read the book as well.

Draco opened and closed his mouth several times, beyond stunned as Arthur chuckled. These three would be alright, clearly able to defend themselves and even Neville looked somewhat intimidating, if only a bit. A wide grin broke out all over his face as the two bodyguards shared a nervous glance, and Malfoy tried to regain his composure and Arthur leaned back, not at all perturbed by the posturing.

"Fine then, I can see you're already a lost cause." Malfoy snarled, then turned away, "Come on, let's not waste our time!" he slammed the compartment door behind him, somehow managing to hit his behind on it as he hurried out. Ron sat back down on his bench with a heavy sigh, scowling as he put his rat on the windowsill and Arthur laughed as the boys settled back down.

Well, there went his quiet, uneventful ride to school.

"What a bunch of dunderheads!" Ron snarled as Harry nodded, wiping his nose with a sniff, "Now you see why I would rather eat my socks than be in Slytherin."

"Well, at least he's gone." Neville mumbled as Arthur shrugged it off. There was no way Arthur would mistake the boy for a shivering girl anymore, Longbottom clearly had morals he lived rather strictly by.

"Good job back there, though, I don't know," He paused dramatically, reflectively looking between the three, "I suppose that you lot would make a nice pair of minions."

Harry and Ron looked at him blankly as Neville squeaked, and Arthur rolled his eyes as he ruefully shoved him.

"You sure the two of you aren't related?" Ron seemed queasy as he looked at Arthur's hair, "Don't tell me you're part Malfoy. I'll barf."

Arthur glared in outrage.

* * *

When the train finally reached Hogsmead Station it hardly deserved the name. it was just a boarded wooden platform that allowed people to and from the train, and that was it really. And it was also in the middle of nowhere, it was barely anything there to critique in the first place. The few lit lamps were fighting a losing battle in the waning sun light, and as the student's squinted through the rapidly approaching darkness of evening, the temperature was considerably lower in the Scottish Highlands than in London. It made Arthur pull his robes tighter around himself as everyone followed the person in front of them, and he watched as other students, some in their groups from the train or year mates, unconsciously move around a man at the end of the fairly small, dimly lit train platform.

Maybe _man_ wasn't the right word for him.

Arthur was taken back by the sheer size of him, huge would be insensitive to normal tall people. Yes, huge was too little a descriptive word for him as the shaggy bearded man with a dopey grin towered over the kids, waving out into the sea of people like a mountain. The man calling out for them was _enormous_.

"Firs' years!" He barked, his voice gravely and thick with a heavy accent. "Right you lot, over here! Firs' years over here!" he yelled over the crowd before waving at Harry happily, and the student's gathered around him as he kept beckoning them all forward to his side.

"My name's Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts!" He held up a lantern, smiling down at them with a disarming smile, before pointing off to the side, "All right there, 'arry? Everyone? C'mon follow me, any more firs' years? Mind yer step now! Firs' years follow me!"

The gaggle of students stumbled and slipped down a steep pathway into the dark as they tired to keep up with the man's impossibly large strides, a few girls mumbling questionably at each other. Arthur caught up with reality as Harry slipped over some loose rocks next to him, and he grabbed his arm before he could tumble down. Everyone wearily made it down the slope, a few luckier than others and when the path evened out they approached the shore of dark waters, thick trees with branches hanging low obscuring their view.

At the bottom there was a fleet of stony boats on the shore line waited, and the giant held up the lantern with another shout, drawing everyone's attention to the dock before shooing them forward.

"Trevor!" Neville lunged at the ground at the feet of a group, snatching up his toad that suddenly miraculous appeared with a happy shout.

"Told you!" Hermione's voice called out from somewhere out front and Arthur rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to question that- magical trains and reappearing sorcelled toads?- no no thanks, he was alright not wondering about how that worked.

Hagrid barked another order as they jumped forward, "No more then four to a boat!"

"Have they ever heard of Health and Safety?" Arthur shook his head, following the others to the boats at the lake's shore before slipping into one that already had three people in it, the small vessels tipping slightly as the children got settled.

With a shout from the Key keeper the boats started forward, causing gasps all around and, much to Arthur's dismay, the twin girls seated across from him zeroed in like hawks, proceeding to talk his ears off all the way across the lake. Only when they finally passed the low hanging branches that obscured their view, Hagrid shouting for them to watch their heads- did they finally see the castle that lay hidden behind it, and everyone grew quiet.

Tall stone walls led to spindly turrets, a multitude of towers rising up into the black sky and it seemed to thrust the castle higher into the air. Light poured from every window, bright lights clearly created by fire and not modern technology flickering behind glass. Everyone stopped, gasping as they gazed at the somehow ageless sight the castle created atop a high ridge, Hogwarts seemingly like a sight straight out of the pages of a fairy tale. Even Arthur's eyes gleamed, humbled slightly by the sheer grandeur of the enchanted structure that demanded all their attention to its magnificence.

It may not be Camelot, but he gaped like the rest of them.

“Pretty, isn't it?” Arthur turned, catching the eye of one of the twins, Parvati as she continued, "My father told me that it's one of the oldest schools in the world, over a thousand years old."

He nodded, she had introduced both herself and her twin sister Padma, who now appeared more interested in the dark waters of the lake then their conversation as she sat silently next to the other occupant, a boy name Blaise Zabini. He grunted in interest, and even as Arthur looked out again at the school, he couldn't stop himself from agreeing.

“I see,” he murmured in an undertone, still gazing up at the castle in wonder. "It does seem to be from another time, truly."

The boats moved like on rails, carving into the solid black surface of the lake without leaving a ripple even as Padma slipped the tips of her fingers in, pulling them out with a shiver at the chill. The castle seemed to get larger and larger as they got to the other side, and Arthur had to tilt his head so far back he almost felt like he would fall over, the towers never ending into the sky. Parvati shifted forward with a smile, her curiosity getting the better of her as another question slipped out.

"What house do you think you'll be in? I don't really mind, since we're the first of our family to attend Britain. Have you any idea how we'll get sorted?"

"Trolls." Blaise finally spoke, cutting in as his eyes gleamed, as his lips curling into a small smile as the three of them turned to look at him. "I heard it was a test of sort, though one boy was claiming we had to wrestle a troll." Arthur sniffled a snort, Zabini seeming to sense his amusement and looked at him with pursed lips.

"It's nothing," Arthur chuckled, briefly wondering whether it mattered if he heard the rumors on the train or not as well. "I really don't know what house I'll be in. Could be any one of them."

"My father said it was just a simple sorting. A test." Padma spoke up, folding her hands in her lap as the boats entered a dark tunnel, moving towards a shingled beach.

They bumped into the stone docks, the cave before mostly natural except for the far side. Arthur watched as the natural crystals in the wall glowed slightly as they passed, and everyone scrambled out as the boats unloaded in batches. When they all had landed, each little ship vanished as the last person got out, and with a wave Hagrid lead them up a long flight of stone steps that ended at a massive pair of oak doors. They were massive in scale, even the giant didn't make it half way up it, and with one last head count to verify they had all made it, he turned and gave a huge set of closed first thuds against the castle entrance.

The door was then opened just enough for a older black-haired witch in dark green robes to step through, her demeanor screaming that of a highly strict professor of studies as she stood straight, her stern sharp eyes sweeping over them for a moment. She raked the group in with a firm jaw before Hagrid loudly cleared his throat.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall!"

"Thank you, Hagrid, I will take them from here." McGonagall opened the doors further with a swish of her wand before turning back to the children. She stands there, gazing quietly until everyone settled down enough to hear her words. “I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress. Now in just a moment you will go through these doors and join your classmates, but before you can do that you must be sorted into your houses.” Some of the students fidgeted nervously, unsure of what this might entail.

"The Sorting ceremony is extremely important as your house will be something like your family while you are here at Hogwarts. Our start of term banquet will begin very shortly but first, there are a few things you should know. You will attend classes with you fellow Housemates, sleep in you House Dormitory and be able to spend you free time in you House Common Room. The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. While you are here your triumphs will earn your House points, and any rule breaking will lose House points. Now, come along children."

She turned to ushered them in, before looking back to say one last thing as Arthur looked around, "I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours." The Professor never purposely stared at a single student during the speech, before giving giving them a small smile and Arthur smoothed down his robes.

He didn't relish the prospect of what a banquet intelled, especially from what he could remember in other castles, but as he looked over at the fidgeting boy he met earlier, Harry automatically flattening his hair over his scar as he ducked his head, he didn't seemed too bothered in comparison. At least all those eyes wouldn't be staring at him this time around. Arthur glowered slightly as they moved into the tower, feeling a bit strange for entering another empire as he spotted the thick tapestries and paintings on the wall, the strong stone floors...

Only for him to stumble when he made his way past the threshold of the door frame, as Hogwarts shook.

Multiple bell towers adoring the school chimed in union very extremely loudly, shockingly so as they pierced the once quiet night time air. The entrance hall vibrated as children gasped and squawked, covering their ears as dust fell from the ceiling and the floor rumbled, the stones all but shaking as more tolls continued and people didn't know what to do as they duct for cover in place.

"What is that?!" Draco screamed hysterically, other students curling into defensive balls as the tolling didn't stop, "It's going to come down on us!”

The portraits that resided inside the halls moved too- much to his and a few others shock- covering their ears just like them and screaming as it grew louder, and through it all Arthur sucked in a breath as magic pulled and snapped in the air, all but clawing at him to notice. Portraits by him started screaming as they fled their pictures, running away as he heaved, digging his nails into the flesh around his ears as the bells got louder and louder- unable to take it anymore as his head felt like it was about to split in half.

" _Shut up!"_ Arthur roared, bellowing out the order to stop from the doorway, to just stop trying to poke and prod him with magic and for bloody slogging sakes- shut up!

It stopped, all of Hogwarts falling back into silence at his command.

All the students looked around, stunned as the quaking ceased and some still on the ground, and Arthur could hear whispering all around him as he stood up, looking around the hall frantically. Thankfully people, it seemed, were more interested in why Hogwarts did what it did, versus the fact he was the one who made it stop- maybe not even noticing his part at all. The portraits were chattering over them, loudly having their own conversations as they looked around the hall in a sort of excited horror, and the Professors looked confused, absolutely startled and slightly shaken as she glanced over the crowd, taking head count before readjusting her witches hat. Clearing her throat to try to gain back control, Arthur hardly heard a word as she spoke over the panicked dribble as he made eye contact with Potter.

Harry was staring, his mouth hanging open in awe as his spectacles almost fell off his face.

Shit.

"This way!" McGonagall clapped her hand, brushing off her own wariness momentarily as she made both boys jump and snap out of it, as they were pushed forward into a smaller chamber to the side, they made their way way down a long corridor with the rest. Everyone was murmuring in worry now, apprehension taking over whatever excitement they might have had before as they turned the corner, and Arthur did his absolute best to keep his eyes forward, not meeting anyone else. 

The magical hum didn't abate though, not disappearing altogether, and it continued until Arthur and the other first years reached another hallway.

It was then that Arthur noticed her, a woman floating near the ceiling as they came around the bend, and when her eyes landed on him, it looked like she let out a breath she had been holding, bringing a surprised hand to slap over her mouth with a ghostly gasp. She quickly composed herself before shooting off through an empty painting, and before Arthur could fully get over the shock of clearly seeing a ghost, another group floated down to cause another panic. The three ghost were having a conversation about someone named Peeves when they heard the young children gasp loudly, their eyes bulging at the sight before they swooped down to see them.

"Look here, look here! First years!" One of the blueish figures shook a hand as they swopped by, "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! It was my old house you know?"

"Always getting younger and smaller, aren't they?" the middle ghost hummed as the children gasped or squealed, Arthur included. Well, it wasn't everyday someone met a ghost, and the one up front introduced itself, er, himself as the Bloody Baron.

"Don't be daft!" He bellowed above them. "You're just getting older!"

As they past by the Bloody Baron's gaze just happened to wander over to Arthur, and like the woman at the ceiling his eyes bulged out, rather grotesquely in a way that seemed they may actually pop. In shock his head snapped back, before he actually elbowed the other two, getting their attention as they continued to float by the stunned crowd.

"Well, will you look at that?" The third all but whispered, turning his head like an owl to look behind him to stare, all three looking at Arthur with calculated glances as he stiffened, feeling the others start to take notice as well.

"Move along now children! The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." the Professor's voice cut through the pack and Arthur could kiss her, doing as instructed as he ended up at the front of the line in a heist to get away, though he could still feel Potter's and a few others eyes burn holes into his back.

He didn't miss how a ghost by the windowsill bowed when he passed though, and apparently neither did Malfoy.

But before the other boy could get out his biting remark, his eyes narrowed suspiciously as Arthur hurried his steps, they made it to the end, going through another large pair of doors and into the Great Hall as Arthur broke away from the others, right to the front of the line. Most of them gasped as they took in the room, and he did admit it was rather amazing.

Overhead, the ceiling revealed a velvety sky dotted with bright silver stars which shimmered slightly as he watched, floating candles adoring next to large chandlers, the wax vanished as it dripped. The light seemed to fade away into the ceiling, into the sky as everyone stared in wonder as the stars flicked above them like they were standing on top a mountain, staring into the vastness of space.

He barely heard Hermione's whisper behind him in the crowd, "It's enchanted to look like the night sky. Supposedly it took many witches and wizards weeks to do the ceiling. There was a whole section about it in Hogwarts: A history." and a few other children chimed in as well, awed as the clouds turned grey and misted over, evidently as real as possible.

There were four long tables situated beneath, the outermost two passing glares between its members when not gossiping about other things. Golden plates and goblets were on all four, but they were empty as they students looked at the group of first years expectantly, and Arthur looked out to the front of the room, to where a group of teacher sat at a long table facing them, clearly a staff table as it peered down a them as they watched carefully.

Professor McGonagall walked forward, placing an old leathery and withered wizardly hat on top of a wooden stool before backing off, and before the new students could figure out why the room was growing quiet, the hat decided to show them itself.

 _"Oh, you might not think I'm pretty!"_ The hat shouted out the song after a slit appeared on the brim, jerking up in place and the first years stared in wonder at its merry tune.

_"But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_a smarter hat than me._

_You can keep you bowlers black,_

_your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all!_

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you aught to be!_

_You might belong in **Gryffindor** ,_

_Where dwell the **brave** at heart,_

_Their **daring** , **nerve** , and **chivalry**_

_Set Gryffindors apart!_

_You might belong in **Hufflepuff** ,_

_Where they are **just** and **loyal** ,_

_Those **patient** Hufflepuffs are true_

_And **unafraid** of toil!  
_

_Or yet in wise old **Ravenclaw,**_

_if you've a ready mind,_

_where those of **wit** and **learning** ,_

_will always find their kind!_

_Or perhaps in **Slytherin** you'll make your **real** friends,_

_Those **cunning** folks use **any means** ,_

_To achieve their ends!_

_So put me on!_

_Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands,_

_'though I have none'_

_For I'm a **T** **hinking Cap!** "_

When the Sorting hat finally finished, everyone cheered and clapped as Arthur remained still, his face growing paler by the second as those sitting at the tables loudly stomped their feet, causing the ragged hat to bow before becoming completely still again. McGonagall stepped forward with a long scroll, clearing her throat before calling out, the hall growing silent again.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbot, Hannah!"

Arthur jerked back to the present as the girl made her way to the stool quickly, and she flinched slightly as the professor slipped the hat onto her head. He bit his tongue so hard he might have tasted blood as it shouted out Hufflepuff after a few seconds, looking at the hat as the rest of the color fled from his skin. He decided very quickly that he didn't like the look of it, or any of this or that, because anything to do with something that _looked inside of his head_ \- was not happening!

Don't be afraid? Don't bloody panic? Oh no, no no no. No.

That was _not_ happening.

What if it saw? What exactly did that hat mean, that it could see everything inside his head? It better not mean what he thought, because Arthur would burn it the first chance he got- most likely while it was still on his damned head. Would it know that he was the actual Arthur? Would it tell anyone? Could it?

Arthur clenched his fist so tightly that they shook, watching as McGonagall stated more names. At least it looked like whatever dialogue that went on between the hat and the students were private, only the house name shouted aloud, but it didn’t stop Arthur from clenching his teeth and holding onto his stone wand like an oversize dagger. Great, now he was just another apprehensive face in the crowd after a castle almost caved in. Hopefully that meant he was blending in.

And why, oh why, did his name have to be at the top of the list?

“Evans, Arthur.” Professor McGonagall called out.

The room gave him a small respectable applause as he stiffly made his way up, his head held high even as he saw Dumbledore sit up and stare, and Professor Snape sneered at him like the visit to Diagon All was just yesterday. But McGonagall smiled as he slowly sat down, his eyes burning holes into the floor as he cringed, holding onto the stool tightly as the Professor place the Sorting Hat on his head, the large thing passing over his eyes and turned the world black.

He held his breath.

There was a moment, then another, of complete silence. And he was beginning to think he might have broken it.

“SWEET MOTHER OF MERLIN!”

The hat screamed out loud, so loud that Arthur screamed, all but leaping off the stool in surprise and terror. He scrabbled to rip it off his head as it jerked about in a frenzy, still randomly shouting as he yanked, but to his absolute dismay the thing wouldn't budge.

The Hall erupted into chaos as students shouted and screamed at the apparent attack, the teachers standing up as well, and Arthur was all ready to rip it in two when a voice finally rang out in his head, still rather shocking to hear as he stilled under the words.

 _My Lord!_ The thing was squeaking in his head, the voice high and girly in fright. The words flowed into his mind in a rush, just as panicked as Arthur as he froze and stumbled back into his seat. _My apologies!_ _I- You- you certainly were not what I was expecting. You startled me!_

 _Me?!_ he hissed back, barely clamping his mouth shut so not to reply out loud as he tugged on the hem, hopeful that it caused the thing pain. _I_ _scared_ _you? Me?!_ he ground out as his eyes darted around, taking in how people were already whispering and pointing, jumping to their feet to get a better look as the rumors started.

The hair on the back of his neck raised as he felt the teachers watching behind him, murmuring, all hopes of blending in immediately flew out the window.

_I should bloody well burn you, you wretched thing!_

_My sincere apologies, Sire. I am a product of enchantment, I could not betray you. It was truly not my intention._ It quickly whispered back, like it was trying to keep a secret even though no one else could hear. _I knew one day I may have the chance to meet you,_ _but never had I_ _thought I’d be given the chance to sort you! Much less in this time._

Arthur swallowed, gripping the stool tightly again as the whispers around him became louder, the longer he sat there. _You can’t tell anyone_ , he thought desperately, his words like ice as he mentally tried to glare the thing into submission. _No one must know about me. And did you honestly have to yell that loud?_ Arthur grumbled.

_Well I'm sorry Sire, but I was expecting Mr. Evans, a boy, not you._

Arthur rolled his eyes. _Fantastic, nothing you said was wrong. I am Mr. Evans. Now get to the sorting!  
_

_Of course,_ the hat replied. _You are Evans just as much as you are Pendragon, aren't you?_ _Now, where should I put you? You possess qualities for all the houses. Brave and loyal, intelligent and cunning. All the things needed to create a King of Albion. But which stands out more so, hmm...  
_

_Now you're just sucking up._ Arthur hissed, glaring up at the old ratty hat as it hummed loudly on his head.

_Just a bit._

Arthur gritted his teeth, ready to shout at it again to hurry up, when it cut him off.

_Now, while you are exceedingly cunning when it comes to getting around a court, you are still loyal and hard working. I believe you are more for the blade than the paper though. You kept your beliefs, your honor, even when it was tested to the limit by lies and deceit, your most trusted members of court and home sneaking around you without consent. Even in good intentions, betrayal is difficult. But you were driven, not for bloodshed or for an empire that would be remembered for the glory of its winnings, but for a kingdom you would proudly serve – for your people. For Camelot. Ah yes, I see it. Even now you fight not for glory, this time either.  
_

Arthur shifted on the seat. He felt awkward receiving such high praise in such a private matter, let alone from a hat.

Really, what has his life come to?

_Yes yes, I can tell. Truly a terrible thing. Loyalty and Bravery. Two sides of the same coin. But which to put you in? You'd do rather remarkable things, amazing things in Gryffindor no doubt. With your nerve and daring you would have the life you always wanted there. But to ignore your ability to see loyalty, to be unafraid to forgive? You could thrive in Hufflepuff, if you tried._

Arthur could hear the hat chuckling in his ear.

_I understand. Yes, very well Mr. Evans. You shall be in-  
_

He sat as still as possible, squeezing his eyes shut.

“GRYFFINDOR!” The hat shouted.

There was a bit of a nervous pause as Arthur lifted the hat up and over to Professor McGonagall and she had an expression that, well, he expected he would be dragged off very soon and interrogated by the looks of it.

Then then hall exploded into cheering as he turned back, people clapping and standing on the wooden seats, congratulating him on a good show- like he planned to have a silly hat attack his mind. He looked around incredulously as the Headmaster seemed reluctant, clapping along slowly as his eyes neither twinkled or narrowed behind his glasses, carefully kept pleasant as Arthur warily made his way towards his table, and he cringed.

The twins from the train were giving him identical thumbs up from the table, mirror image devilish grins adoring themselves as he sat down with a groan, rubbing his face as he was swarmed by people patting him on the shoulder or ruffling his hair in good nature. The sorting started again, more names being called out that he didn't pay mind to as he noticed his uniform change, the once black tie and badge replaced by somewhat familiar colors or red and gold- even if the insignia was not that of Camelot.

What the hell had he gotten himself into? 


End file.
